The Lone Courier
by Aniphine
Summary: Now known as The Courier, The Lone Wanderer finds herself in a personal search for revenge. But necessity causes her to form a fast partnership and together they'll become a part of something bigger than they signed up for. What started as a personal vendetta will become a fight for the reins of an entire city, with her placed right at its center. Strange. Some things never change.
1. Alone Again, Naturally

Alone. As she looked around at the barren desert around her, with only brush and dirt to keep her company, she realized it then, more then ever before. She was entirely, completely alone.

But it wasn't the solitary that sent a chill down her spine. She had always been alone. Now she was lost. Lost, without anyone around to help her or to tell her where the nearest town or clean water source could be found. At least in the Capital, there were signs to direct you, or buildings to sustain you. But here, there was nothing. She couldn't even see the top of the Lucky 38 on the horizon any longer.

Hoping for a better view then could be found behind her visor, she slipped off her helmet for the first time in days. Although she was glad to feel the cool air on her heated face, she still regretted it slightly, as she breath in the dust and radiation. But it didn't bother her too much. She had grown accustom to it in her travels as, The Lone Wanderer as Three Dog once called her.

The air was much clearer here, in The Mohave Desert, then it was in The Capital Wasteland. Although much thicker with dust, it was considerably less irradiated - which her lungs were grateful for. She could breathe and function much better overall, without the stinging sensation that had, once, constantly plagued her lungs. But she still kept a supply of RadAway with her. Just in case.

Looking around in the desert that seemed to continue forever, there was no sign of civilization to be found. Only a solemn, passing dust devil, gaining speed and dirt, the farther it went.

"Just fantastic." she muttered under her breath as she settled onto the ground.

Sitting cross-legged, she pulled her assault rifle from the bag on her back, and laid it in her lap. The same old bag she had bought from Moira in the Capital, nearly two and a half years ago. One of the only things she was left with, after Benny shot her in the head. The bastard not only stripped her of her armor and all her custom made weapons, - which she worked very hard to find the parts for - but he also her package. The very and only reason she was in the remains of Nevada in the first place.

Checking her clip, she sees that she is nearly out of ammo on this weapon as well. Out of ammo, low on water, only one Crunchy Mutfruit, completely lost and out of range of Radio New Vegas. This was shaping up to be the worst weekend ever.

After cursing Radscorpions to the deepest pit of hell, she swore that if she ever found a way back, she'd find a way to drive all Radscorpions to extinction. Maybe with a sonic emitter, like she did to the Ants when she was helping the Boomers over a Nellis Airforce Base? After all, it was those monstrous insects that had gotten her in this situation.

* * *

><p>Donna hadn't told her that this particular area on the map, labeled 'Gulch' was actually called 'Radscorpion Gulch', for a very crucial reason. So she blindly walked through it, obliviously unaware that hordes of Radscorpions were converging upon her. Luckily, in her years of battling Super Mutants and the occasional Behemoth, she had learned to always come prepared. But, with that said, she had never seen so many Giant Radscorpions in her life.<p>

She had already been fighting two hours, and her resolve was weakening as her adrenaline was slowing. She was fighting three Radscorpions and two Barks, when she heard the familiar sound of quick shifting dirt underneath many legs. She turned around just in time to dodge the Giant Radscorpion's pinchers as it lunged at her. She was able to stay out of its grip, but only by inches.

She managed to shoot it twice with her Flamer, hurting it considerably, but before she could switch to her shotgun, to deal the final blow, it lunged with its stinger. Desperate to avoid the deadly poison, she lost her footing and slipped. Immediately, she found herself on the ground, out of breath and her weapon out of reach. With a flaming Giant Radscorpion on top of her, she managed to dodge the tail, and the stinger burrowed itself into the dirt beside her head. Before it could attempt to strike a second time, she pulled the knife from her leg holster and drove it as deep into its eyes as possible. Killing it instantly.

Pushing the 200+ monster off of her, she rushed to her feet in a frenzy, barely escaping the strike of the smaller, but still deadly, scorpions. Grabbing the shotgun she had dropped during her fall, she rushed out of their tails range and quickly patted down her clothes in a desperate attempt to put out the fire that the Giant had, so gracefully, given to her. Although her clothes were only left a little charred, and her armor a little black, her map was burned beyond recognition.

But she was in luck; - if you could call it that - she only had to battle another mile, before finally making it out of the appropriately named gulch. But it cost her. She lost most of her food and water, Stimpaks, a weapon or two and also her map.

Once she was out of harms way, she recalled from memory, that if she could find the highway, it would lead her right past her destination. The El Dorado Gas & Service Station.

It wasn't long before she found herself in front of the old gas station. Kind of charming in its deteriorated state. The windows boarded up and a thick layer of dirt and grime overtopping of the neon green paint, old and worn over the years. The brown and burned skeletal remains of a car, sitting underneath the tall teal covering. But all of that was inconsequential. It was the plastic lean-too, crafted into a makeshift bed and the cold campfire that made her uneasy.

She couldn't see Brahmin anywhere near, so it probably wasn't a caravan.

Travelers? She noticed the Jet lying next to the bed. Unlikely.

Logical assumption? It was Raiders. Or maybe even a gang. Neither were very friendly.

She couldn't see any gang markings or any mutilated bodies hanging near, so if it was one of these inhospitable groups, this wasn't a place they planned to make a permanent residence.

She stepped silently and carefully around the makeshift camp, not wanting to disturb anything, and made her way to what she assumed was the main door. Trying to turn the knob, she attempted to open the broken, but enduring, door, but it was to no avail. At first, she contemplated whether the door was blocked, or had even rotted until it was securely shut, but as she tried the knob again, the familiar rattling sound told her that it was simply locked.

Glancing back in the direction of the Radscorpion Gulch, she knew she had been through too much to be deterred by the possibility of raiders.

Pressing her ear softly to the rough wood, that was boarded against the weakening metal; she listened carefully for any sign of life. Nothing. All was silent for the moment.

Crouching, she took her .44 Magnum revolver from its holster and looked to ensure that all six bullets were loaded. Laying her weapon on the ground, just within reach should it be needed, she took out a bobby pin and screwdriver from the bag that hung on her back. Skillfully, she inserted them into the lock and moved them around slowly, twisting and applying pressure at the right points. Prodding the lock, until the familiar sound of the lock clicking open met her ears and left her with a feeling of satisfaction.

Quickly returning them back into her bag, she picked the lethal Magnum up from the dirt and let her hand mold over the wooden handle, made smooth with use.

Staying in her crouched position, should she need to immediately evade or blend into the nearest shadows, she slowly pushed open the door. Keeping a tight hold on the knob, she managed to creek it open, without making a sound. She waited a moment; to be sure she wouldn't be bombarded with onslaught of bullets, before peeking inside. Her eyes darted around the room to find it empty.

Slipping inside and gently closing the door behind her, she surveyed the area. Confident that there were no hidden ambushers and that she was alone, she straightened up and she slid her Magnum back into her leg holster.

_"It's probably inside a register, or behind a box. Not well hidden, but not in plain sight." Donna had told her._

_"How will I recognize it?" _

_"Oh it's pretty distinct. You'll know it when you see it."_

Remembering Donna's tip, she quietly began her search by breaking the petty locks on the two cash registers, but found that they contained only five dollars worth of Pre-War money. She then started to look around every toppled isle, behind every display and counter. The station was small, so it didn't take her long to completely map out every inch of it and discover a bit of ammo and a MedKit on the wall, slightly shielded by a fallen shelf.

To her surprise, it wasn't locked, and as she opened it, there was her goal. A 'Double Vision' as Donna had called it. Its structure was the same as a Stimpak, but as Donna had said, it was unmistakable. Its contents glowed bright green, reminding her of a Nuka Cola Quantum and she wondered if it would have similar side effects.

Grinning contently to herself, she put it with her Stimpaks in her bag and made her way to the door. As she reached for the knob, the door suddenly burst open, slamming into her and forcing her to stumble back and struggle not to fall.

She barely had time to regain her balance, before a large blade swung for her head. She dodged suddenly, nearly sending herself falling back again and managed to avoid the knife.

As she quickly gained her footing, she noticed two, slightly larger figures standing behind him and knew that he had friends who were probably ready to intervene. She could back up only slightly before her assailant, lightly armored and sporting a Mohawk, stabbed at her again.

Almost without thinking, she grabbed a hold of his outstretched wrist and quickly twirling, she bent it hard across her back. A grueling crack sounded through the room as his elbow shattered. Releasing her hold on his wrist, she quickly grabbed a hold of his shirt and his back, and heaved him at the larger of his two friends, who was already taking aim.

As the two stumbled to the ground, she quick drew her Magnum and with expert precision, she fired off a round at the third man and a resounding _boom _not only sounded, but vibrated through the air, letting all in earshot know that she is to be taken seriously, as a vicious recoil raked through her arms.

The impact of the solid round took the head of her attacker clear off, as his body was sent flying backwards. Two other shots were fired in rapid succession, dealing equal damage.

Silence slowly fell over the area as the echoes of the gunshots drifted away with the breeze.

Her revolver still trained on them, she watched closely, the limp forms lying motionless on the ground. One's arm bent a disturbing direction. She saw their clothes consisted of strips of bone bundled around the body with strips of leather and noticed the black tattoo of a snake across one of the attacker's bicep and recognized them as Viper Gang members.

She moved her sights to the area around her, to be sure there are no other unexpected guests, and found that they were the only ones here. She took in a relieved breath as she tried to return her heartbeat to its normal rhythm and force the adrenaline rushing through her bloodstream to calm. She holstered her revolver and began searching them over.

She scavenged ten bottle caps, assorted ammo and a knife, - which she would use to repair her own - but all else was nothing of value.

Now, to find a way home. Radscorpion Gulch wasn't an option. She barely made it out, when she was well prepared, but now that she was low on supplies, she couldn't risk it. She sighed deeply. She'd have to find another way, and without a map, it'd be very difficult. The sun was hanging low in the sky and she knew it would be an endeavor for the next day. With the makings for a camp fire, at least she would be warm while she slept.

* * *

><p>And now here she was. She wandered for hours, in what she thought was the rough direction of New Vegas, but now she wasn't so sure.<p>

She glanced at her Pipboy. Noon. The hot desert sun already burning her back as she sat cross-legged the dirt. Thirst beginning to gnaw at her dry throat, hunger starting to leave a sick feeling in her stomach. She's lost and alone.

She almost laughed at the insanity of it. Some things never change.

But suddenly, her absent mind jolted to attention as her eyes caught a glimpse of something. She froze, like an animal in sudden danger, as her hands tightened instinctively around her assault rifle. Her eyes darted up in an instant, but they didn't see anything. There was nothing, but a lone tumbleweed trembling in the light breeze. But her eyes stayed steady ahead as her body stayed still.

Just when she was about to scold herself for paranoia, a small flash of white in the corner of her eye brought back her immediate attention. Her sight leapt to it, but there was nothing there. Her breathing became a little more deep and a small, nearly unnoticeable shiver skimmed across her skin.

There it was again. A shimmer - a reflection of light. Suddenly she know. Something was there, that obviously didn't want to be noticed. Something with a Stealth Boy and the knowledge to use it.

Something was stalking her.

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><p><strong>DISCLAIMER: I own everything except the characters and story-lines found in Fallout.<strong>

**A/N: This is my first offical Fanfiction, so, please, read, review and enjoy. I've also posted this story on Fanficion, and would dearly appreciate if you would leave a comment there, as well.**

**I know that a few of these songs that I imply and refer to (Double Vision, by Foreigner and Alone Again (Naturally), by Gilbert O'Sullivan), are not 50s songs, but they fit too perfectly for me to resist using them. I hope you like it nonetheless.**

**Edit: 'Minor' rewrite.**


	2. No Easy Way Out

_Damn._ It was the only constant thing resonating through her mind; whereas every other thought was traveling faster than she could process.

_What is it? Where is it now? How well armed is it? Do I have enough ammo? Damn! How big is it? How fast is it? Could I outrun it? Damn! What kind of weapon does it have? How could I not have noticed it sooner? Damn! How could I be so stupid? Could it kill me? Damn!_

She shifted her legs slowly, loosening and untangling them from each other as she let her index finger slowing slip over the warm metal trigger of her assault rifle. Letting it mold around the metal piece until it was poised and ready to act on a moments notice.

Her mind scrambled for an explanation or some sort of idea she could go on. The thought of a Super Mutant flashed in her mind. She had seen Super Mutants use StealthBoys before. Did they have Super Mutants in the Mohave? They had Nightkins, could it be one of them? What if it was something else entirely? She didn't know what kind of creatures lived in Nevada, let alone what they could have mutated into.

She took in a gathering breath, forcing her breathing to slow and her mind to calm as she tried to concentrate on her surroundings. But there was nothing to see. She tried to calm and quiet the heartbeat pounding in her ears and to stop the heat rising in her face. Her ears listened keenly for the soft sound of dirt underfoot, the sound of metal or cloth shifting on a body, or the breathing and heartbeat of someone other then herself. Any sound.

No matter how many years she had spent in the Wasteland, no matter how many times she was shot, stalked, beaten or chased, this didn't get any easier. Her heart still went into her throat when she realized she was in danger - especially when she was in a vulnerable position. But she forced down the fear. Forcing it away and not letting it affect her actions. She had to act clearly.

Then, suddenly, the world slowed. Just as she heard the shift of dirt beside her, she felt the all too familiar feeling of a hard, formed, metal barrel touch the side of her head. Her breath hitched, her muscles tightened and her eyes darkened.

There was no way in hell she was getting shot again.

Her hand shot out impulsively and connected hard with what she thought was the gun, filling her hand with a quick burst of pain as it slammed into the metal, knocking away the gun away as her body quickly followed suit and leapt from the ground.

The invisible form showed with murky transparency at that proximity and her eyes blurred in and out of focus as she tried to catch sight of it. In the quick glance she took, it didn't seem big enough to be a Super Mutant, but rather human. A quick map of a human's size and shape showed in her mind and, not hesitating as her eyes tried to grasp the vision, she brought the full force of her knee against the back of its leg, making it lose its balance and stumble backwards. Releasing what seemed to be a rifle, she wrapped her arm around its neck as it stumbled into her hold.

With her forearm pressed tight against its neck she felt skin against her own and something that faintly reminded her of leather. She felt something large, hard and awkward pressed her from his back. With it barely visible, she felt its broad shoulders under her arm and was almost positive it was a man.

One of _his_ hands darted up and clutched at her arm as he tried to pry it off as he stumbled back. She staggered as she tried to catch both her balance as well as his, while not losing hold of him. He thrashed from side to side, trying to shake her off or make her loosen her hold; even managing to lift her off her feet a few times, but she clutched even tighter around him. He suddenly stilled as she pressed the barrel of her assault rifle deep into his back.

"Whoa, Whoa! Hold on." The man suddenly insisted, his masculine voice sounding anxious. "I'm not going to hurt you. I mean no harm."

"Then stop _fighting_." She demanded harshly, taking his moment of composure to tighten her hold and press the sharp metal barrel a little deeper into what felt like a soft material.

"I might if you'd let me _breathe_." He said hoarsely. They stood paused in that position as she contemplated the idea. Finally, she relented and loosened her grip, slightly, around his neck. _Just_ slightly. "Much appreciated." He cleared his throat.

Most of her attention was set on keeping him in her grasp and herself out of his, but in the back of her mind, her thoughts were racing with the most pressing question: _what now_?

Should she just shoot him and scavenge his things? That would get her some ammo at least, but it's short term thinking. Where would that get her in the end? She'd still be lost. A little better equipped maybe, - which would be a bonus - but still lost. She really didn't think she could just let him go; it'd gone too far for that. But, maybe she could get some directions out of him first?

"Why'd you pull a gun on me?" The Courier demanded.

"You're the first person I've seen in miles. Just sitting there with an assault rifle in your lap, I didn't know if you were feeling friendly. And under the circumstances, I'd say it wasn't a stupid idea."

"So, by putting a gun to my head, you hoped to inspire hospitality?" She kept her voice steeled.

"I was just making sure you wouldn't shoot me as soon as I was in sight. The plan was good, but the execution didn't go too well… well, no, I didn't mean that. Not _execution, _just… you know… carrying out the plan. Yeah."

"…Those were the words you chose while at gunpoint?"

"Well, _excuse_ me, but that gun you have in my spine is messing my nervous system, which is messing with my head. I'll try to be more _articulate_ in the future."

She rolled her eyes, "Work on your social skills while you're at it."

"Yeah, yours are fantastic, by the way." He retorted, but after a moments pause, he sighed and she felt him relax, "You know what? You're right. You're totally right, I'm sorry. Let's try this again." His voice softened into a kind, friendly tone, "Hi, I'm Carson."

"Hi." She replied flatly.

Carson expelled a breathy laugh, "So... I'd shake your hand, but, this position we're in right now… doesn't really allow much movement."

"Loose the StealthBoy."

"Oh... Yeah, good idea." He replied. He carefully raised a murky-clear hand to what she gathered to be his forearm between shimmers. His fingers skimmed over the hulking device on his arm and, with a press of a button, he was suddenly visible in the harsh sun.

Her eyes relaxed instantly as they were able to focus, and were met with Carson's short, brownish-black hair. She glanced down to the large, hard object between then to see a metal box hanging from his back, which she assumed held his weapons and supplies inside.

The Courier's eyes moved to the scoped hunting rifle in his hand, looking nearly identical to the 32. Caliber Hunting Rifle she owned in The Capital. "Drop the rifle." She ordered simply.

"Are you going to shoot me?" Carson asked as though it was a joke, but the undercurrent of true suspicion rang clear to her ears.

"Probably not, but if you don't drop the rifle, then the answer is definitely yes."

He let it slip from his hand and fall onto the hard ground.

She moved her attention to the weapon box and she eyed it attentively for a moment.

"Don't move." She instructed as she warily loosened her arm from around his neck, but she still kept her gun firmly in his back.

She waited as she watched him shift slightly with his newfound freedom, but he didn't move much more. With her gun still alert and her finger still tightly on the trigger, she moved her now free hand up his back and fiddled with the clips on his weapon box until they snapped open and the box fell into her grasp.

He tensed, "Hey-"

"Don't _move_." She cautioned, silencing him for the moment as she tossed the box far from reach.

With him seemingly unarmed, she let her rifle pull away from his back, but still kept it securely trained on him. For a moment, he still remained still; but when he didn't feel something sharp dig into his back, or something blunt make contact with the back of his head, he slowly turned around.

He didn't seem much older then herself, his facial features softly molded, but unmistakably male. His short, blackish-brown hair had been combed back, but some had fallen down in front of his forehead in their struggle. His eyes showed a sapphire blue, a contrast to his tanned skin, with only minimal dust covering him. His clothes consisted of durable looking jeans; brown boots; a thick, leather, trench style coat, with a high collar and the occasional bullet hole; a metal chest plate that seemed to mold perfectly over him; and an ammo belt.

As his eyes caught with hers, he took a second to look her up and down, before meeting her eyes and giving her a friendly expression. "Hi again." He moved to raise his hand, but she flinch and raised her gun higher, "Whoa! Okay, no handshake, got it." He kept his hands to his sides, "So, okay, what do I call you?"

After a quick thought, she said, "The Courier." She wasn't going to tell him her real name, so her most recent nickname would do for now.

"Well… I didn't expect to be on a first name basis, but it's a bit formal, isn't it? I mean _The_ C-" He paused and seemed to study her for a moment before continuing. "Wait a second… that sounds familiar..."

"Radio New Vegas has mentioned me before."

"Yeah... Courier found shot in the head… near… Goodsprings? Yeah, now I remember. Mr. New Vegas was talking about you the other day." His eyes narrowed as they glanced over her, "Wow, this is totally not a come-one, but you look really good for someone who took a bullet to the head."

"Thanks, but believe me, there will be no repeat experiences."

"Hey, I'm not just some gang guy with an eager trigger finger. My gun is just a backup; I wasn't going to shoot you unless you did something deserved it." He lowered his voice to a mumble, "… Not that it mattered. But, hey, as long as you're feeling nice, so am I." He said, friendly, "So, what's a celebrity like you, doing all the way out here? Or more importantly, this close to a Cazador nest?"

"Cazadors?"

"Yeah, there's a huge nest just north of here."

She felt a slight apprehension at the thought of encountering a Cazador. She had seen five take out a passing caravan, shortly after arriving in Nevada. Even the security guards, assigned with the sole purpose of protecting the Brahmin and their owners, - and were therefore well armed - only lasted about 45 minutes. One Cazador was deadly enough, but as ill-equipped as she was, she definitely didn't want to encounter an entire nest full.

"I didn't know there were Cazadors out here. Thanks for the tip." She studied his features for a moment. He looked at her kindly, seemingly genuine. Maybe he could help her? "I'm new in town, and I'm not too familiar with the area. I'm looking for the main attraction." She lightened her voice.

"You mean New Vegas? Well, you must be really new, because you're no where near Sin City."

"Well, maybe you could help me out? Point me in the right direction?"

"Well, New Vegas is _that _way." He lifted his arm to point about five feet west of where she had been traveling. She mentally cataloged it. So she _was _going the wrong way. "But without knowing what to expect, like Cazadors and Radscorpion nests, you won't get far."

"Hmm… Then would you be willing to show me around? I have a map on my PipBoy, you could just point out the hotspots."

"I couldn't pinpoint anything on a map, I just know the area. There are certain marks and places in the scenery that I recognize just from experience. And I know how to get back to New Vegas, but it's a long ways out of my way. I'm not sure it'd be worth my while."

She sighed internally. Some things never change. "What sort of payment would make it worth it?"

"Well, lowering the gun would help." He glanced at her rifle, still aimed at him. When she looked at him warily, he added, "I'm not going to jump you. Besides, after your little disarming earlier, I think you'll be fine."

She lifted her assault rifle to slip it back into her bag. He was seemingly unarmed and she was not only knew fairly good hand-to-hand, but also had her knife and Magnum in reach. She was fairly certain she would survive.

"Thanks. This is so much nicer."

"So what do you want in return for guidance to New Vegas?"

"Actually, now that you mention it," he tipped his head to the side, as if the idea had just occurred to him, "I could use some help with something."

"What kind of help?"

"Well, I've heard about this unique grenade machine gun, that I've been hoping to find. It's called 'Mercy' and it's supposed to be pretty powerful. Belonged to an old Brotherhood of Steel paladin."

"Where is it?"

"In a cavern, a couple of miles away, called Dead Wind."

She raised an eyebrow. That didn't sound good. "And what would this excavation entail?"

"Just scavenging... and some fighting."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Fighting what?"

"Now that's the tricky part. It's kind of a Deathclaw breeding ground - which is why I'd need back-up"

Her expression fell, "Forget it. I'll find my own way back." She waved her hand dismissively.

"Oh, come on. It's a chance of a lifetime!"

"That, ironically, will end with our deaths."

"Not if we're smart. With the two of us, it wouldn't be that bad. Do you have any experience with them?"

"Plenty, I assure you. I've infiltrated their sanctuary once, but I was better prepared then. I don't even have my Disintegrator Rifle now!"

He opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly closed it as confusion spread over his features. He raises an eyebrow, "...Your what?"

She lets a sigh escape her lips. Alien abduction isn't the greatest icebreaker. "Nothing. What I'm saying is, Deathclaws are fast and hulking and dangerous. I'd be better off just braving the Cazadors." She stated.

"Not by yourself. One against all those Deathclaws is suicidal, but with two, one of us can cause a distraction. They're deadly, but you just have to keep your distance and do _a lot _of shooting."

"I don't have that much ammo. Not enough to take on Deathclaws."

"The plan is to sneak in unnoticed. With one person, it's more likely to get noticed; with two of us, one can sneak in while, like I said, the other causes a distraction. Just grab Mercy and go."

"How do I know you won't just feed me to them?" She asked suspiciously.

"Because I have just as much invested in this as you. I want Mercy, so letting you die won't be in my best interest; and you need a guide."

"And how do I know you're telling the truth?"

"You don't. But at the present, I'm being held at gunpoint by the woman who was shot in the head and kept on trucking. I'm not exactly in a position to be lying, now am I?" Carson said, matter-of-factly.

The faintest of smiles ghosted across her lips, "Good point."

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed chapter two! I'm already working on chapter three, so it should be up sometime in the near future.**

**Please, read and review. It is the life force of every author, and encouragement always helps keep the writer's block away. So whether it's constructive criticism or even a simple 'good job', all is welcome.**

**Edit: Thanks to all of you great advisers and reviewers, I like to think my writing skills have improved, so I rewrote a good part of this. I hope it looks better now. I plan to rewrite chapters 1-5, maybe even 1-8, but I'm not sure. Some changes will be major, some will be minor - I'll mention which category each chapter falls into in my Author's Note. This chapter falls under the 'major', especially at the beginning. **

**Hope you like it.**


	3. Traveling Man

"So... Do we have a deal?" Carson asked, extending a hand to her.

She looked at him, studying his features for a moment. He stared back, looking as though he might say, 'It's now or never.'

He looked trustworthy to her. And besides pointing a gun at her, he hadn't given her a reason not to trust him. His explanation for that seemed logical and, in all honesty, she probably would have done the same.

But she still didn't like it. She didn't want to have to follow this man she just met into a Deathclaw _breeding ground_. She didn't want to be forced into trusting, or at least relying, on someone on a split decision. But she honestly didn't see a better avenue. Sure, now she knew which way New Vegas was, but he was right, it didn't much matter unless she had an idea of what she was walking into. She would risk it if she had more ammo, or at least enough water to last her, but she didn't. And he was, quite honestly, her best bet at the moment.

She breathed a sigh and clasped his hand, "Deal."

After a brief hand-shake, they turned away from each other. The Courier took only a moment to locate her previously discarded helmet and pick it up from the ground, as Carson lifted his equipment box from the dirt behind her.

Shaking the dust from the helmet, she wrapped her burgundy hair, tied into a ponytail, around itself until it sat in a bun-like fashion and slipped on the close fitting helmet. Her eyes shadowed by the visor again, she pulled the loose hood of her thin jacket over her head and made sure all her possessions were on her. She looked to Carson to see him placing his hunting rifle into his equipment box, now secured on his back.

He glanced to her briefly, before looking out across the desert. Flat, except for the few shallow hills and, the sage brush and cactus that was spotted every few feet.

"Ready?" he asked, glancing back. When she nodded, he turned and walked south.

She stared after him for a moment before glancing north, where he said New Vegas was located and she uneasily looked back to him traveling the opposite direction. He was leading her even farther away from civilization and, somehow, it didn't settle right with her.

She shifted her hand closer to her Magnum and followed him.

The sun was sitting high in the sky, beating down on them as they trail across the desert. Glancing at her PipBoy3000, and seeing that the temperature at an irritating 97 degrees, the Courier cursed silently to herself. The heat was difficult to adjust to at first, coming from the colder climate of DC, but she managed to get use to it. Normally, 97 wasn't too awful; irritating, but not too bad. But when carrying one-hundred-plus pounds in equipment, another twenty pounds in armor, and then fully clothed... it was difficult.

They walked silently, only the sound of their feet against the dirt breaking the hypnotic silence.

"So," After an hour or more of their constant tredging, Carson spoke up, "You 'infiltrated a Deathclaw's sanctuary'?"

"Yeah, about a year or so ago." the Courier replied, as they kept walking, "I didn't have any backup. But, like I said, I was a lot better equipped then I am now."

"Hmm… I haven't heard of a 'sanctuary' before. Where is it?"

"Oh, it's a _long_ way from here."

"Could you give me a c-" He stopped mid-sentence, freezing in his spot as his face became suddenly serious and his eyes focused in attention.

She mirrored him. Her hand gripped cautiously at her Magnum and her eyes darting around, before focusing suspiciously on him for answers. But he didn't pay any attention to her and instead, slowly reached his arm back and lifted out his rifle. Her eyes stayed focused on him, watching him warily and intently.

Suddenly, he turned and raised his gun to his shoulder - making her hand instinctively draw her Magnum - and fired at something behind them. Her eyes followed to see a large, fully grown Cazador buzzing towards them. She raise her revolver and aimed, but she before she could fire on it, her ears caught a similar sounding buzz from behind her. She turned to see another Cazador flying towards her.

It was unmistakable. Four orange-colored wings that looked ripped and torn, but were still fully functioning; a black carapace with spikes lining its back; six legs and blood-red eyes. It moved fast, but had a rather erratic flight pattern. It seemed to idle and swing side to side before lunging with its sharp and, no doubt, venomous stinger.

She aimed and fired twice at its torso, not entirely sure she could secure a headshot with it moving so unsystematically. The shots hit their mark and blew a large piece out of its body, completely eradicating four of its legs. It spun from the impact and hit the ground in a high pitch squeal.

It stayed there for a moment before wheeling around and flying at her, seemingly more determined then ever.

She fired again, but the shot missing as it dodged away at the last second, and the creature lunged at her. She quickly stumbled backwards to avoid its stinger and felt the warm and solid feeling of another person against her. Back to back, they glanced fleetingly to each other, before returning their attention to their attackers.

Carson fired another .308 round and it sunk deep into the insect's head, collapsing it before it blew it into pieces. As it fell to the ground, only one other shot was fired from the Courier's revolver before the .44 round pierced the second Cazador and it fell dead. Satisfaction sinking into both of them, they lowered their weapons and turn to each other.

Glancing at the other's handy work, they both exchanged a silent look of approval. But then the Courier's gaze shifted to behind Carson.

"Look out!" She called out in a sudden urgency as her hand shot out to his shoulder. Gripping at his arm, she shoved him to the side and fired at the Young Cazador, but she wasn't quick enough.

Just as the earsplitting gunshot rang out, the smaller insect dug its stinger into Carson's arm. He gave near silent gasp in pain, but it went unheard as it was overwhelmed with the sound of the Courier's shot. The .44 caliber round sunk into the insect's head, killing it before it could even dodge away.

As it fell dead to the ground she took in the surrounding area in a quick glance, before looking to Carson. He had dropped his rifle onto the hard dirt and was in the process of discarding his coat in the same fashion. She stepped to his side as he rolled up his sleeve and began to examine the sting that had journeyed through his leather coat, through his light shirt and into his skin. An entry hole half the size of a Sunset Sarsaparilla cap, and lightly bleeding blood and a clear fluid, tainted a light yellow.

Taking in the sight briefly, he acted quickly, moving his lips to the wound and sucking out the fluid before spitting it onto the ground, as the burning sensation already spread under his skin. The muscles in his arm and hand, seizing up involuntarily. He repeated the process again and again, before reaching into his box and digging for only a moment, before lifting out a vial, similar to the color of the Cazador's venom. He didn't hesitate to unscrew the cap one-handedly and poured it onto the wound. He hissed at the pain and watched as it seeped into the small wound; some dripping down his arm. Then he looked up to the woman known only as, 'Courier', to see her eyes lift from his minor wound and meet his gaze. They seemed intently curious and betrayed a bit of concerned.

"Anti-venom." He explained.

"Will it work in time?" She asked inquisitively.

"It was a young Cazador, and the sting is fairly new. I'll be okay."

She could only watch. She knew how to clean and treat a bullet wound; a knife wound, a Centaur burn, a Deathclaw cut, a Blowfly sting, a Radscorpion sting, and countless other infirmities, but she was clueless on how to treat a Cazador sting. She could only watch as he worked with an experienced touch. She watched closely, trying to remember what she was seeing, storing away the knowledge incase she was in need of it in the future.

"How much does it hurt?" She asked, wanting all aspects of the situation.

"One to ten? About a five." He moved his arm to see it at a better angle, "Young Cazadors' venom isn't fully developed, so the poison isn't as bad. It can still kill you if it's left unattended, but it's usually from infection."

About two or three minutes had passed, before he returned the vile to his box and pulled out some surgical wrapping he had tucked away. Wrapping the small puncture wound tightly, he slipped the wrapping back into his box and rolled down his sleeve before pulling on his coat - struggling with the left arm a little - that had gained another hole and another story to tell. She picked up his rifle from the dirt and held it out for him as he took it with his good arm and secured it on his back.

"How soon until you arm is fully recovered?" She inquired.

"Right now, the poison is trying to attack my blood stream and muscle tissue, but the anti-venom is counteracting it. Give it an hour and I'll be good as new." A spark of honest sincerity showed in his eyes, "Thanks, by the way."

She nodded, "Not a problem."

Stepping past the corpses of their most recent adversary, they continued farther out into the desert.

For most of the next hour, they remained silent. The Courier's eyes a little more pealed for danger after their most recent confrontation, but she couldn't help but glance at Carson's arm every so often, or steal a glimpse at his face to make sure it wasn't etched with pain or that he wasn't paling. Assuring herself that the anti-venom had taken effect.

The last thing she needed was for her guide to become sick, after dragging her even farther into the desert. And she didn't know what to do, should he fall ill. Anti-venom and Stimpaks would be the only treatment she could offer for such an injury. And if the anti-venom didn't work the first time, then it wouldn't work a second. And although she was sure that Stimpaks would help, it might not be enough.

She glanced at him again. He seemed fine. His color was the same as when they had first met, maybe a little redder from the sun exposure, but so was hers. His expression was calm and didn't betray any pain. He walked in normal strides and didn't seem uneasy on his feet. His breathing was normal and easy.

As she took in the mental analysis, she noticed he looked to her out of the corner of his eye. Starring at her momentarily before a small smirk tugged at his lips. "Are you worried about something, or do you just like the view?" He joked.

She fought down a smirk, "I was just wondering whether you were going to chicken out and die on me. Or worse yet, get sick. I'd hate to have to pack you." She teased, but kept her voice at a serious tone.

He seemed to find that amusing, "Die when I'm this close to having Mercy? No way." He stated, before falling silently into a thoughtful expression. After a moment of deliberation, he asked, "You really think you could pack me?"

She breathed a laugh, "I've packed a Super Mutant a mile and a half," _More like dragged_, she reminded herself, but didn't mention it. She glanced at him, sizing him up, "I could probably pack you."

He rolled his eyes and smirked, but no more was said.

* * *

><p><strong>Hoped you enjoyed it. Feel free to R&amp;R.<strong>

**Also, I know that the only thing about this chapter that's similar to the song, Traveling Man, by Ricky Nelson, is that they're traveling, but this song was stuck in my head the entire time I wrote this, so I decided to keep it. But for that matter, what does Ain't That A Kick In The Head, by Dean Martin, have to do with being shot in the head, besides the title? Just a thought. ;)**

**Edit: 'Minor' rewrite.**


	4. Moment of Truth

They set up camp for a few hours that night, but neither of them slept. Just sat around the fire Carson had built in relative silence. Carson said they would reach Dead Wind the next day. That meant they'd need their strength and they needed to be fully alert, but neither slept. They just rested their tired and sore bodies, sat and looked into the fire.

As soon as the sun began to rise, so did they; continuing their trek across the desert.

It was around 11:00am, according to the Courier's PipBoy, when Carson stopped.

"Right up there." He pointed to the towering rock formation about two-hundred yards ahead of them, "Dead Wind."

As she studied it, she found that she couldn't identify anything other then rock. No door or entrance. But after a second thought, she realized it would probably be small and tucked away, like the Deathclaw Sanctuary's door had been.

"Don't let the outside fool you. It's a lot more exciting on the inside."Carsonsaid casually.

_No doubt._

Before they could observe the rocky hillside any longer, suddenly, shouts and yells echoed across the rocky terrain. Her eyes followed the sound, rapidly gaining volume, to see where it was originating. Her eyes landed, curiously, just over the hillside on what looked like an entrance to a Metro Station from the Capital, about one-hundred yards from them. The calls definitely sounded human.

Her hand automatically rested on her Magnum, but her attention shifted as Carson hooked her left arm with his hand.

"What are you doing?" She looked at him curiously and resisted as he tried to tug her away.

"Getting front row seats. Come on." He gently tugged her arm again. This time, she followed as he shuffled them behind a nearby rock.

He released her arm and looked over the top of their hiding place. "Why are we hiding?" She asked, crouching down.

"Look. You see them?" He pointed towards the rock formation. She looked closely for a moment, before seeing two, small, tanned colored creatures, she quickly recognized as Young Deathclaws, patrolling along the edge of the Dead Wind entrance.

"And you see them?" He pointed to the four people that were shouting and yelling as they came over the slope, leading towards Dead Wind. They looked like Fiend gang members, judging by their armor. They were on a collision course with the Deathclaws.

Suddenly, she liked how Carson thought.

"So all we have to do is sit back and watch."Carson said, seemingly pleased, "Good things come to those who let idiots be idiots."

She watched as the four, apparently incompetent, Fiends attacked the Young Deathclaws - who seemed to like the idea, because as soon as they had located the blithering fools, they ran full speed towards them, claws poised.

Two of the Fiends preferred the melee approach, both armed with knifes and were the firsts to attack the Deathclaws. It didn't take long for the two human sized monsters to dispatch them, with only two swipes of the five-inch talons, a piece, the Fiends fell dead. The two other Fiends held off, shooting at the Deathclaws with their rifles, and actually managed to kill one. The Courier found herself impressed. But the second Deathclaw, though severely injured, ended the two remaining Fiends with relative speed.

"Well, that helps."Carson said, drawing his scoped rifle from his back and resting it on the top of the rock. Lifting his eye to it, he aimed it momentarily before firing. The shot was quick and quiet, sounding muffled by a silencer. The remaining Deathclaw, unaware of danger, didn't brace for the impact and the shot killed it instantly.

Carson seemed pleased with himself.

* * *

><p>She needed to be as quiet as possible when she was in the cavern, and that meant being as light as possible. So she had slipped off her bag, her helmet, and the majority of the various things she had stored in various pockets over her armor and left them in a small, especially decrepit house Carson called Harper's Shack, located not far from Dead Wind. Keeping only her weapon of choice, the 44. Magnum and her combat knife.<p>

She wasn't quite sure why she brought the knife. She hoped she wouldn't be in a position to use it, but even if she was, it wouldn't do anything against a Deathclaw. Habit maybe?

She stood in front of the old wooden door entrance to Dead Wind. Gathering herself in a deep breath, she lifted her hand to her forearm, pressed the button of the StealthBoy and a transparent shroud enveloped her, making her un-seeable and unnoticeable.

"I'll wait until you're further in, then I'll make a distraction."Carson spoke blindly to her invisible form, "Good luck."

"Good luck." She returned before they quietly stepped inside.

As soon as she was in, she quickly and quietly stepping close to the cave wall, kept to the shadows. She moved with a practiced and skilled agility, staying light on her feet, crouched low to the ground.

She didn't get thirty-feet before she was faced with the first of the Deathclaws. She carefully inched past it, not even breathing as she watched it attentively, waiting for any sign that it had noticed her. She slinked around it with relative ease and felt a rush of adrenaline as she was out of eyesight, and she moved into the next section of the cavern. Her eyes stayed constantly alert, darting in every direction to make sure she wasn't caught unaware. Her ears did similarly, keenly attuning to any sound.

She looked suspiciously at the glowing green mushrooms that grew in the corners, and avoided them carefully. The last thing she needed was to be noticed due to a light reflecting off of her in a shimmer.

Passing through many room-type openings, and stealing past four or five more Deathclaws, she moved farther down the hallway-like passageway, before it opened up into the largest room-style area she had seen yet.

She stopped dead in her tracks as she took notice of the largest Deathclaw she'd ever seen. Twice the size of any other Deathclaw she had encountered. She gulped silently, a sudden feeling of humility spreading through her. If it saw her, or managed to hit her with those two-foot long talons of pure bone and sharpened to a fine point, there was no doubt in her mind that she wouldn't recover.

She watched it closely, holding her breath and paying close attention to both its movements and her own. She couldn't slip up and she couldn't afford to make a mistake. It still continued to rip the flesh and meat from a dead and now mutilated Brahmin, completely oblivious to the intruder that stood crouched, just feet behind it.

Her eyes left it only long enough to quickly scan the room. It was dark; very dark in this cave. Only the strange, glowing mushrooms providing any light at all. This tipped in the favor of the Deathclaws, who were gifted with amazing eyesight, as well as night-vision. Whereas she was not so lucky, and obviously, wasn't able to activate her PipBoy light. She squinted in the darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of her goal.

Her eyes locked onto it and there was no mistaking it. The body of a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin, entirely clad in power armor regalia, and beside its remains sat a strangely structured yet most marvelous piece of equipment she had laid eyes on. Looking old and rusted, with 'Hei Gui Bye-Bye' written on the side in white letters, making her smirk to herself. The grenade machine gun, known as Mercy.

Her eyes moved back to the legend of a Deathclaw, to see it still feeding distractedly. She watched it for a moment, assuring herself that it was occupied, and that it hadn't noticed her.

She moved so very slowly towards the weapon. Using her hands to balance herself and keep from putting too much weight in each step or movement, making her much quieter and much steadier.

When she was only about five-feet away from her objective, she stopped dead in her tracks as an almost demonic sounding snarl ripped though the cavern. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest and her head whipped around so quickly. She barely had time to see the twenty-four-inch claw traveling at lightning speed towards her head. She lunged backwards in an instinctive frenzy from the talons, loosing her balance and falling flat on her back.

The monster's other hand wasted no time sailing towards her as it snarled in fury. Grasping at anything she could use for traction, she clambered backwards, desperate to avoid the claw as a string of curses attempted to roll out her mouth, but caught in her throat with the rising panic.

Gaining little traction, she pulled away from its clutches and shifting her entire weight to her shoulders. She rolled and effectively preformed a reverse somersault, bringing herself to her feet. Jumping backwards from its reach again, she drew her Magnum revolver and in an instant, fired three bullets directly into its face. It only made it bellow at her as it shook its head and clawed at her form. Her figure shifting from invisibility and visibility as her StealthBoy clung to life, somehow damaged in her fall.

Seeing the little to no damage she inflicted on the monstrosity, she turned on her heel and ran from its grasp. Once she gained a relatively safe distance of about ten-feet, she turned and fired another three times. One bullet making contact with its eye, exciting a blood curtailing roar that seemed to shake the ground.

Seemingly more infuriated then before, it dove for her, closing the space between them almost instantly. Acting purely on instinct, before her mind could engage, she turned to run again, but she found herself confronted with another, more average sized Deathclaw that still towered above her. Without thinking, she ducked underneath its outstretched arm.

She was nearly out of the smaller Deathclaw's grasp, when it turned in an instant, and it's other, giant, terrifying, devastating 12-inch claw shot out and caught her across the back.

She could feel the rock hard bone of its razor-sharp talons tear through her armor and clothes with ease, and dig into her flesh as though it were soft butter. A scream escaped her lips as white and black exploded in her eyes. A brief numbness before bright, white pain ripped though her every nerve. She hit the ground with enough force to knock the wind from her lungs, causing her to gasp and wheeze due to more then just pain, as her mind wheeled and went blank.

A heartbeat amount of time pasted, before her thoughts crawled back to reality. A single notion was at the forefront of her mind, screaming at an intensity that frightened her.

_Get up! _

She couldn't stay immobile, no matter how welcoming the current idea was. Gasping as her eyes rolled back in sharp, bright pain, she fought against every fiber of her being as she drug herself from the dirty cavern floor. Forcing herself to her feet with speed that surprised herself as black crept into the edges of her sight.

Somewhere in her consciousness, she realized that it had only grazed her. Knowing that if it had gotten a good swing, it would have severed her spine and she most definitely wouldn't have been moving.

Pushing herself out of their grasps, she clambered to gain her footing, nearly falling, and using all of her strength, she was off like a gunshot.

Her feet pounded on the hard floor, each step sending a tremor through her, causing the pulsating, white, hot pain in her back to intensify. The pain stayed sharp as a feeling spread out across the rest of her, as though her nerves were confused, sending both a numb feeling and a intense pain slowly crawling across her skin and into her every fiber. She ran hard and fast. Faintly recognizing, in the distance, the cracks of a sawed-off shotgun resounding throughout the cave, mixed with the feral shrieks and snarls of Deathclaws.

She aimed for the cave wall. Using all of her momentum, she jumped and used her feet to propel herself further up the side. Gravity began to claim her and her feet began to slip from the rock-side, just as her hands gripped tightly on the edge. Dirt and rock cutting into the skin of her hands, but she ignored it and, utilizing all of her upper body strength, she heaved herself up and over the edge, until she was kneeling on the second level of the cave and, for the moment, out of their grasp. Biting back the pain, she pushed herself to her feet and ran down the pathway of the second level.

She wasn't sure where she was going, but she knew it would be far away from her most likely cause of death, at the moment. Nothing else mattered more then that.

She ran down the pathway, which seemed to be a sort of ramp to the first level. Her heart beating at such a speed and strength, she thought it would explode. Her breath coming faster then she could manage.

She followed the path, and looking ahead of her, she saw the exit of the first level, that she had originally entered through. Making it her designation, she sprinted for her only escape, before a Deathclaw appeared between her and the exit. Blocking her way and forcing her to screech to a halt. Instantly, she raised her Magnum, took aim without having to look and pulled the trigger three quick times. Only to be met with the clicks of an empty chamber.

Her vision blurred suddenly as her heart briefly stopped in her chest, before springing to life again. She knew the odds without thinking about them. At least two Deathclaws and a Deathclaw of legendary proportions. And her, severely injured, without ammo or any means of defending herself. She was going to die.

She waited for the twelve-foot tall monster to charge at her, to lunge at her with its deadly talons, but it didn't move. It starred her down as if challenging her to make the first move. Although the other two weren't so patient and ran for her. Her eyes searched desperately for anything she could use. She needed a weapon. Something. Anything.

Her thought process stopped dead as the solution presented itself before her. Her eyes locked on her savior. Mercy.

Not even thinking, she ran for it.

The pain, sharp and white, pulsating at a rate she didn't know was possible. Everything hurt. Her mind screamed for the silence of her thoughts, but she couldn't help it. Four voices inside her mind. One telling her to run, one telling her to stop, one that was crying from complete and utter desperation, and one that demanded the silence of all the others.

She felt so slow. She was running as fast as she ever had, or perhaps faster, due to the choking amounts of adrenaline moving so quickly and thick through her veins, that it she thought it might clog them. But she felt so slow. She was only a step away from being mauled to death. All she had to do was trip once, or stumble, and they would be on top of her.

She tried to push away the pain, but the wounds of her back, bleeding and pulsating with sharp, white pain, demanded attention.

Push. The only thought that was constant.

Every bit of will in her said to lie down and embrace this death, rather then the slow, agonizing one, but there was a quiet feeling in the back, nearly drowned out from the other voices, saying, 'just keep running'. She had to push. Just ten more feet. Just push.

It now in her reach, she dove for it, the one and only chance of her survival. She grasped it tight in her hands, her knuckles turning white at the pressure. She pulled it into her lap, turned and squeezed the trigger, begging to God and anyone else who was listening, that she wouldn't hear another click.

Divine intervention didn't fail her. The sounds that met her were repeated, almost fluent, _thood thood thoods _as the ammunition flew from the barrel and burying themselves inside of the Legendary Deathclaw's skin, before exploding, ripping apart flesh and bone alike in a magnificent display of destructive power. She couldn't help the crazed laugh from bursting from within her as the Legend fell to its knees, now reduced to a bloody, messy, pulp.

The other two were more hesitant, but still charged. A grin spread over her face as she pulled the trigger, with no doubt in her mind that they would die.

Only seconds later, she sat, with all attackers in range silenced for now, breathing heavily and fighting down the pain as her hands shook from adrenaline. She stood, walked past the bloody remains of the Deathclaws and moved to the exit, towards the sound of gunfire.

She didn't walk far before she saw Carson with his back against a rock, shielded from the five Deathclaw that are converging upon him. She quickly ran up and took a place beside him. She could feel the sticky, wet, hot blood trailing down her back and tried, desperately to push it from her thoughts, to put it out of her mind before it sent her into a panic. She needed to focus.

He glanced to her, grinning widely at the sight of Mercy. "You ready?" He asked, not noticing her paling skin in the darkness. She nodded assuredly.

"Go!" They yelled in sync as they wheeled around from their cover spot and unleashed a hellfire of grenades and shotgun shells.

* * *

><p>She stumbled towards Harper's Shack, a sweat breaking out across her skin. She could feel a cold feeling spreading inside her and outlining where her wounds laid.<p>

"That was amazing!" Carson exclaimed, sounding completely ecstatic.

"Yeah." She breathed through gritted teeth, her voice sounding hoarse.

His exhilaration instantly shifted to concern, "What? What is it? What's wrong?"

He paled nearly as much as her, as realization flooded over him. His eyes locking on her. Although her armor was mostly black, it didn't hide the glimmering wet and red blood trailing and flowing down her back. Four distinct tears in the fabric that covered her back. His breath came short.

"Oh my God."

* * *

><p><strong>DISCLAIMER: I own everything except the characters and story-lines found in the Fallout universe.<strong>

**A/N: The chapter title is Moment of Truth, by Survivor, by the way. **

**I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Flipping through some of my older writings gave me a burst of inspiration, and then, Ta Da! :) I know it's long, but who doesn't like a good action scene? **

**Please, R&R and let me know what you think. Hope you liked it.**


	5. The Show Must Go On

"Oh my God." Carson nearly whispered, his eyes locked on the blood streaming down her back.

She stumbled and he impulsively reached for her, catching her arm and helping her to her knees as her legs gave out abruptly.

Suddenly, everything in the Courier just wanted to roll up into a fetal position and pray for the pain to stop, or _at__least_ lessen, but every time she moved or her spine bent, the bleeding flesh around it screamed for stillness. Her breath was shaky just like her hands - that were still bursting with adrenaline.

She had to get control of herself. She couldn't sit here and drift into oblivion. She tried to push back the pain and what it coaxed her to do. She knew from experience she had to not panic. Stay in control.

Carson glanced at her face to see it etched with complete misery; her eyebrows furrowed, her forehead creased and her lips pursed into a tight line, obviously restraining agony.

Looking away, he moved his attention to her back. Wet, purplish, sticky blood covered her entire back and streamed down the rest of her body. He winced. He found himself struggling with what to do, momentarily, before his mind engaged and his senses returned.

She turned her head slightly and watched faintly as he reached into his equipment box and pulled out a two Stimpaks. Recognizing the familiar syringes, she allowed him to take her arm. She felt something small and metal as he carefully slipped the needle under her skin and her fear of needles was forgotten as her concentration wouldn't shift from her gashes for long.

She could feel the fluid move into her as he injected the medicine into her. She knew Stimpaks contained mild painkillers in addition to its rather quick healing properties, but it would take time to work. Meaning the pain killers wouldn't help her much at the moment.

Tossing the syringe aside, he released her arm and quickly assessing the condition of her injuries, he moved to gingerly and carefully peel the jagged and cut metal plating off of her back. He could hear her stifle a groan and her fingers dug into the dirt.

"I know this is probably a stupid question, but what happened?" Carson asked, "Did the SteathBoy run out?

"No." The Courier said quietly, through gritted teeth, "They must have smelt me."

There was not doubt in her mind that they hadn't seen her, before the Legendary Deathclaw attacked. The StealthBoy made sure of that. And she was absolutely silent when she moved through the caves. There's no way they heard her. But Deathclaws have an amazing sense of smell.

Carson nodded absentmindedly and continued working.

A few minutes later, the mangled and blood soaked metal was discarded and Carson moved to the next task. He needed to get to the wound, and now that the armor was removed, only the cloth underneath remained. If he didn't want to make this more grueling for her, he'd need to cut it away, rather then tear it.

He glanced around for a sharp object or a knife and quickly took notice of the blade that sat sheathed and attached to her leg. He reached for it, but her hand shot out, grabbing tightly onto his wrist and stopping him dead in his tracks. Her gaze lifted and her eyes locking with his, looking suspicious and warning.

"I have to get the fabric off, if I'm going to clean it." He explained, but her expression was unwavering. "Trust me." He tried to assure her.

The Courier considered herself a good judge of character. If she felt off about someone, it usually resulted in them stabbing her in the back or something to that equivalent. But she hadn't picked up any signals from Carson, and even though she had only known him for a day or so, she was fairly sure he was a decent person.

However, things were different now. He had the Mercy. He could just take it and leave, and she couldn't exactly stop him, in the position she was in at the moment. Or he could just kill her, take her things and _then_ leave? A partial mercy killing, perhaps?

But she still didn't have much of a choice. The Deathclaw may have only grazed her, but she could feel that it was deep, and she could feel that she was loosing a lot of blood. She had to stop the bleeding or do _something_, or else she would die. She was fairly sure of his character, and _God_, she hoped she was right. She had to trust him.

Her eyes changed from deep suspicion back to agony and she released his hand. Unsheathing the sharp blade, he moved quickly and delicately to lift the ripped fabric from her blood soaked flesh and cut it away until the wounded area of her back was revealed.

He grimaced. It looked bad. The entire area was black and blue from the rough entry, the skin around the grooves were loose and ripped, and the inch or more deep cuts in her back oozed purplish-red blood.

"How bad?" she asked, her voice tight.

He examined the injury momentarily, before answering, "Not good, but I think you'll live." He crooked his head to the side and winced, "Your biggest issues are bleeding out and infection. I'm going to have to sterilize it."

She cringed at the idea. Past experience made her well aware of what the only sterilizer in the Wasteland was.

God, she hated this place.

She replied, sounding determined and certain, "Do it."

Reaching into his equipment box, quickly, he pulled out an old, auburn colored bottle of whiskey that he had been saving for something a little more pleasant then this. Taking off the cap, he lowered it to her face, "Want some first?"

She merely shook her head. Steeling herself.

Taking a deep breath, Carson let it pour from the glass bottle and down her back. He heard her gasp sharply and her head fell. Her hands dug deeply into the hard ground, trembling, and she bit her lip to keep quiet. Her breath came shaky as the whiskey soaked deep into the cuts, and burned out impurities.

Suddenly, she wondered if infection was such a bad idea.

They sat like that for about two or three minutes, Carson watching her closely and wondering just how in the hell she wasn't screaming. He asked her a few meaningless questions, hoping to keep her talking and from going into shock, but she didn't answer. She just concentrated on resisting the pain and in the back of her head, she wondered how she could shut him up. Her aggravation easily triggered, presently.

Another few seconds passed before he took out a water bottle and poured the clean water down her wounds. Washing out the dirt, whiskey and some of the blood - that was beginning to slow.

She relaxed a little as the lukewarm water streamed down her injuries, still burning, but a much preferred alternative. Her head lifting slightly, she tasted the metallic taste of blood in her mouth and she realized it was from her lip. Her hands unclenched a little and felt sore. The worst was over, but suddenly, she felt completely drained.

"You still with me?" he asked her.

She mumbled an affirmation.

Relieved that she was at least coherent, he moved to the next task. Searching his bag for a moment, he found some old surgical wrapping and pads – scavenged from an old clinic. Gently smoothing the area with some medical ointment, then placing the pads carefully over her cuts, he gingerly began to bind the wrapping around her torso to hold them safe. Carefully reaching under her arms and across her waist, not wanting to move her more then necessary, until the bandaging was secure.

She felt entirely numb to anything other then the deep sharp - and now burning - gashes.

As he tied the last of the wrapping around her, he took a moment to inspect his work. "Does that feel alright?"

"Mmm." Her head drooped again.

_So tired _

"Hey, no. Stay awake." He said, gently slapping her on the cheek.

She recoiled as much as the pain will allow her, and looked at him incredulously through drowsy and narrowed eyes. She was about to tell him off, and just maybe hit him back, when something faint in the back of her mind reminded her that the sleepy feeling was probably shock. And that if she closed her eyes, she might not open them again.

Her reprimand died in her throat and she dropped her head again.

"I need you to stay awake." Carson said with a gentle authority, "Keep your eyes open, okay?"

She nodded, fought back the inviting crave for sleep and lifted her head, opening her eyes from their half closed state. She stayed still for a moment, before she moved slowly, painfully straightening herself to an upright position, still kneeling. He watched her closely.

"How do you feel?"

Taking a breath, "… I don't know." Her voice sounding a little more human. _Like__shit_, was the most appropriate answer she could think of. "I think…" She took a breath, steadying herself, "I'll survive… right?" She looked to him, her eyelids still hanging low.

"Yeah. If you take care of the injury." He looked her over again, "And if you stay awake!" He said, sounding frustrated as he snapped his fingers in front of her face, partially knocking her from her haze.

_God,__he__'__s__annoying._She thought to herself, glaring at him. Although part of her wanted to thank him.

Knowing if she stayed still much longer, she wouldn't be able to hold off the inviting darkness, she shifted, steadying herself with her hands and tried to stand. Biting back the burning feeling her wounds gave her as she stretched them. Carson reached for her quickly, avoiding her injuries as he hooked an arm around her waist and one on her arm, to help her up. She leaned heavily on him for support.

He gave a half smile, "You're the only person I know, to high-five a Deathclaw, and survive. I think you should know that."

She breathed a laugh and showed something of a pained grin.

She tried to take on her full weight, but stumbled, finding her legs strangely weak. He caught her arm and allowed her to lean back into his embrace.

"Easy now. Don't overdo it."

Slowly, he guided her back to Harper's Shack. Reality and cognitive thought slowly rising from the haze, step by step, as she moved along.

* * *

><p>Carson pushed open the door to the Shack and after knocking all the cans off the table, he carefully helped her shift her weight off of him and lean against the metal table in the middle of the room. With her now braced against something other then him, he quickly moved to retrieve her bag from the shelve in the adjoining room.<p>

"Do you have any Blood Packs?" He asked, shifting through her heavy bag.

"Mmm… yeah… in the MedKit… right pocket." She told him, more aware, but still fuzzy. Standing was helping her fight off the drowsiness.

"Got it." He said a moment later as he lifted out the dark red pack.

Also taking out some surgical tubing and a needle from the MedKit, he dropped the bag to the floor before moving to her side. She realized that the pain killers in the Stimpaks were starting to take affect, because she could actually feel the metallic needle slip and move under her skin.

She watched him as he connected the tubing and then the blood pack with a speed and efficiency that told her he had done it before. He adjusted it slightly, before he set the Blood Pack on top of an elevated shelf, letting the dark red stream down the tube and into her vein.

"There." His voice seeming content and hinted at relief. "You lost a lot of blood, so this should keep you from slipping into a coma. You should start feeling better soon. Stop it!" He snapped his fingers in her face again as her eyes drooped and her head threatened to dip. She flinched away, but opened her eyes.

"Sorry." She mumbled.

Time passed silently as he watched the blood flow into her veins and she forced her eyes open - which was slowly becoming easier as more blood was returned to her system. Soon, the Blood Pack was empty and Carson moved to disconnect it. Taking the Pack from the shelve and unhooking the surgical tubing, while she watched silently, measuring the pros and cons of asking the question that burned on her tongue. Finally, when he was removing the needle, she couldn't restrain the need to know.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked quietly.

"Because if you don't have a transfusion, you'll pass out and die."

"No… not that. …Why are you helping me? …Why not just take Mercy and leave? What do you have to loose if I die? ...Why do you care?"

"Do you want me to let you die?" He asked in honest confusion.

"No - I…" She took a breath to try and straighten out her thoughts, "It just doesn't make sense."

"Why not? You're a human being, not some injured animal." He explained, still looking puzzled, "You were hurt while helping me, why would I leave you to die?"

"I…" She struggled with her words, "I don't know. Any other person would."

"Well, I'm not anyone." He finished with the needle and placed it the MedKit before leaning against the metal table beside her, "You've done your part; I have Mercy - which is pretty kickass, by the way." He smiled as he looked at the machine gun resting on the floor, "Now it's my turn. We'll head to New Vegas tomorrow. Tonight, we'll just rest here."

She gave a weak, half smile, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

* * *

><p><strong>DISCLAIMER: I own everything except the characters and story-lines found in the Fallout universe.<strong>

**A/N: The chapter title is The Show Must Go On, by Queen. It's an amazing song, you should check it out.**

**I'd appreciate if you dropped me a review, let me know what you think. Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it. :)**


	6. Back In The Saddle Again

With her helmet resting in her hands, the Courier turned and examined it carefully as she debated whether she should take it or not.

It wasn't very thick, meaning it wouldn't hold up against anything bigger or stronger then a 9mm or 10mm round. So combat efficiency was out of the question.

The visor helped keep some of the dirt and sunlight out of her eyes, but she was starting to feel clostriphobic in the small, stifling helmet. She wasn't sure if she could put up with that for long.

It looked pretty nice when her jacket hood was pulled overtop of it, but her jacket soaked in blood and torn to shreds, so she wouldn't be bring that either. Fashion sense is a rarity in the Wasteland anyways.

Honestly, the reason for leaving it behind that was holding the most weight in her mind, was that it was too damn hot. She wasn't sure if it was because of the desert heat or because she had a fever, but she still didn't want to pack the extra weight and put up with the added warmth for something that wasn't very effective.

Making her decision to leave it, she placed the helmet on a shelf in Harper's Shack - perhaps for the next traveler to use - and walked outside.

The Courier noted that Harper's Shack, although in horrible disrepair, was filled with a surprising amount of useful things. Like a reloading bench, a workbench, assorted ammo, a varmint rifle, Wonderglue, and a few other things.

Carson had taken advantage of the reloading bench almost immediately, reloaded a few rounds of her 44. rounds, and his rifle and shotgun shots. He seemed pleased with the find, but had quite vocally expressed his displeasure that he couldn't reload grenades for Mercy.

She was sure it was a guy thing.

The backs of the Courier's eyes felt dry and sore; the makings for a fever spread across her face and seemed to burrow into her brain. She definitely had a headache. And the sun, shining brightly in the morning sky, reflecting sharply of the light dirt, wasn't helping subdue the ache.

However, the Stimpaks were working, thank God. The burning, unbearable pain that she felt yesterday was now dulled to a deep muscle tissue ache, which, although was still _very_ tender, was _much_ better then not being able to think or breath.

The bleeding had slowed significantly, which was good because bandages were scarce. Her back had shifted from being a pool of red to a mass of black and blue.

She knew that if wasn't for the painkillers, she would be in a very worse state then she was at the present, so she decided not to complain.

Sleep also helped. She felt so much better after a bit of sleep the night before. Once the Stimpak's painkillers kicked in, and the Blood Pack had raised her blood pressure to an acceptable degree, she was able to relax enough to actually dose off. Much to her aggravation, Carson would wake her up about every hour or so, to make sure she didn't slip into a coma. But other then that, she was in a dark paradise.

The old, rusted bunk bed in the side room of Harper's Shack could be surprisingly comfortable when you haven't slept in nearly a week. Although the bars of the bunk looked too deteriorated for Carson's liking, so he opted to sleep on the floor rather then on the top bunk.

The Courier glanced to her PipBoy, which was specially pressurized around her wrist and connected to view and monitor her vitals. At the press of a button, the green-tinted screen sprung to life and greeted her with a 'Good Morning' in small text.

Pressing one of the small orange buttons, she scrolled to her medical status. The small 'vault man' icon on the screen that was meant to represent her, held a weak smile and the text above it told her that her condition was 'Good'. It also read that it advised one Stimpak a day, until her injuries completely healed - which wouldn't take long. Maybe a few days?

The wonders Stimpaks worked never ceased to amaze. She had fully recovered from a headshot - besides the killer migraines she would have occasionally, but Med-x usually fixed that - within about eight days. The gash on her back, along with all the infirmities that surrounded it - although gruesome - would heal rather quickly.

Thank God for Stimpaks.

She found Carson standing on a ridge, just outside the Shack, with his coat resting on the ground. He stood in a shooting stance as he gazing down the sights of his scoped rifle and scanned the horizon.

"There aren't any Deathclaws after our little raiding party yesterday, and I don't see anything other then a few Geckos farther out - but they're not even enough to get your blood pumping." He lowered his rifle and looked back to her, "It should be smooth sailing for us."

As he hooked the rifle onto his back, she caught a glimpse of something hanging on his belt. Recognition sparked, and she identified them as two Legendary Deathclaw hands. They looked even bigger as they hung on his side; the talons hanging clear down to his calves and looking menacing.

"Are you going to sell those?" She tipped her head towards them.

He glanced down, "Oh, no. That's what I'll do with the regular Deathclaws' hands. I'm keeping these bad boys. They'll make some _phenomenal_ Gauntlets."

She nodded and smiled, "I'm compelled to agree with that."

She had found a Deathclaw Gauntlet when she ventured into the slaver city known as, The Pitt. And she _loved_ that thing. Most the time, she didn't even have to use it. Just put on a Deathclaw hand and most people scatter, from either fear or plain respect. But a Legendary Deathclaw Gauntlet?

Her smile widened.

Best. Idea. Ever.

"You know how to make them?"

"I know how to make lots of weapons. It's not that hard, it just takes a workbench, a medical brace, a leather belt, tons of Wonderglue and the know-how." He listed easily, sounding experienced. "The problem is, I don't have any of the other supplies - besides the Wonderglue I found inside - otherwise I'd make one on the workbench." Then he shrugged, "I guess it's not fair for me to have too many kick-ass weapons at one time."

She wasn't going to lie. That impressed her. She knew how to repair weapons or, occasionally, armor, but only if she had a similar item to use for parts. She never learned how to craft her own. She had even bought a workbench from Moira, back when she lived in Megaton, but after sitting and tinkering with the tools and parts for hours, she never figured out how to build anything useful.

Carson lifted his coat from the ground and shook the minimal dust from it, before he tossed it to her. She caught it easily and studied it in her hand for moment, before looking to him with a puzzled expression spread over her features. Wordlessly asking for an explanation.

"Put it on." He explained, "It should keep the sun off of your back and help keep the dirt out of your bandages." She opened her mouth to protest, but he raised his hand, silencing her, "Don't fight it, just take it. You can give it back when we get to New Vegas."

She looked at him oddly for a moment, before nodding and giving him a small, thankful, half smile.

She swung it around and slipped it over her arms and onto herself, struggling not to bend her back and disturb her wounds more then necessary. Once was on, she immediately noticed how heavy it felt, although very comfortable. The interior felt smooth and even though it was a little warm, she could tell that the leather was a great insulator. It was big on her, hanging much more loosely on her then it did on him, but it wasn't too bad. She registered faintly, that it smelt of his unique scent, mixed with the smell of dirt and gunpowder.

There was no doubt in her mind. She was definitely getting herself one of these when she got to New Vegas.

He looked her over quickly before nodding with approval. "How do you feel?"

"C_onsiderably_ better. Thanks to your handy work."

He inclined his head, "It was certainly an adventure."

With one swift motion, he reached down to the ground and hooked his hand on the strap of her bag, lifting it from the dirt. She expected him to toss it to her, but instead he slung it over his shoulder

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"You earned your keep yesterday. So today, I am your chauffer and, at the moment, bellboy. Welcome to the Mohave." He swung his arm out, gesturing to the open landscape spread out ahead of them, looking new and fresh in the morning light.

She sighed a chuckle, "Thanks."

He nodded nonchalantly, "Away we go."

* * *

><p>The Courier paid faint attention to Carson as they walked, and mostly concentrated on each individual step she took; making sure each was steady on the rocky and uneven ground - her legs still feeling a bit alien to her. But she couldn't help but notice him stealing an occasion glance her way.<p>

She smirked to herself at how quickly the tables had turned.

Stepping past the towering steel structure of a power line, suddenly, the screeching and groaning of the strained metal filled the air. She looked up at it, alarmed, as it swayed slightly and dangerously. Looking at it cautiously, she took a few steps away from it and wondered silently why every single power line she had seen seemed to do that.

Carson, seemingly unaware or unnoticing of the sounds, glanced to her as she stepped towards him hesitantly and looked at her oddly. With a raised eyebrow, he followed her line of sight, leading up to the towering power lines.

"Don't worry about them," He assured her, "they probably won't come down."

"You're sure?" She looked warily at the second one they passed, which squealed just the same.

"I've only seen a couple ever fall, and they were in far worse condition than these. Strangely enough, out of everything, these things were built to last."

The Courier's eye caught sight of a power line that laid toppled over in the dirt a few yards away, looking like it hadn't been there long. She glanced back Carson with something of an arrogant 'really?' painted over her face.

He shrugged innocently, "I said 'probably'."

* * *

><p>They fell into the soothing, and rather mesmerizing, beat of footsteps against ground and the warming heat against their bodies as they trailed along the rather uneventful path. The Courier just stared ahead, faintly keeping an eye out for danger, even though they hadn't encountered anything. But she wasn't complaining. She'd had enough action to last her for a good long while.<p>

Her mind kept drifting back to Carson. A restless need to know, study and understand every aspect of his actions. Her mind kept coming back to the fact that he could have left her. He could have just left her, but, instead, he went beyond the deal and gave her medical attention. Even at that, he could have just given her a Stimpak, let her slip into a coma and said 'Oh well. I did all I could.' But instead, he took the time to disinfect the wound, give her a transfusion, keep her awake and even gave her his _coat_!

There was only one logical reason for him to have stayed. Because it was the right thing to do. It would have been better for him to raid her things and let her die. She wondered silently, if he really wasn't a self serving, backstabbing lunatic, like so many others in this place?

Maybe she was the lunatic? Maybe she had been in this God-forsaken Wasteland too long and the chaos had infected her? Was it so hard to believe that someone besides herself had morals? That she wasn't the only decent human being in this post-apocalyptic world?

Sure, she was entirely justified in not taking someone at their word. She had been stabbed in the back more times then she would care to remember and the governing law in the Wastes was to take what you can and do what it takes to survive.

But could this guy be a decent person? The number-one rule in the Wastes is to always be cautious, but, by all rights, he had proven himself.

"Something on your mind?" Carson spoke up, breaking her from her musings.

"Oh, I'm just... thinking." Her mind still weighed with thoughts.

"… Do you mind me asking, 'what about?'?"

"You." She said absentmindedly, "I mean, what you did." She quickly corrected herself and forced her mind back into reality, before she could mess up her words anymore.

"You're still on that?"

"Well, - it's just, - you went above and beyond our agreement. You saved my life - not that I'm complaining. It's just... not something you see out here very often."

He didn't reply at first, but eventually said in a quieter voice, "I know. I've been out here my whole life, so I know. But that doesn't mean you have to succumb to the… _anarchy_, I guess you could call it. Maybe it's Karma? What goes around comes around, so I don't see anything wrong with helping out someone."

"That's…" She glanced to him, mildly taken back, "admirable."

He inclined his head, "Besides, I'm pretty sure somewhere, in the fine print, part of our deal was to get you back in one piece." He glanced to her, "And you didn't leave me - when I was stung by that Cazador."

She rolled her eyes, "The circumstances were a little different. You wouldn't have died. I didn't even do anything."

"You offered to carry me."

She laughed.

The Courier kept in step with Carson as they walked up onto the old, wooden railroad track and trailed along it.

* * *

><p><strong>DISCLAIMER: I own everything except the characters and story-lines found in the Fallout universe.<strong>

**A/N: The chapter title is Back in the Saddle Again by Aerosmith. Awesome song.**

**I struggled with this chapter a bit, but once I got in the groove of it, I just ran with it. You like? **

**See you next time.**


	7. This Ain't My First Rodeo

And there it was; the signature and unmistakable form of Dinky the Dinosaur jutting up from its more rural, but still secluded surroundings. It towered above them, the faded green paint chipped away until it showed almost brown, and, all considered, it was surprisingly well kept. The dinosaur statue was in full view as the railroad connected to the highway and took them past the town of Novac.

The Courier couldn't help but admire the statue in its surviving state. For that fact, she was always a bit awestruck whenever she saw something pre-war that was still intact. Perhaps living in the Capital had conditioned her into thinking the whole world was in ruins, - which for the most part, it was - but traveling across the country, she had encountered a few surviving relics of the old world. Little things like Dinky the Dinosaur brought a touch of civility to the Wastes.

She found herself just as amused as the first time, when she glanced to the sign that hung just outside the main town; once reading, 'No vacancy', but due to the broken and missing letters, now read, 'Novac'.

They walked past Novac without stopping in and as they pasted Dinky, the daytime sniper, Manny, called out to the Courier from the mouth of the tall Dinosaur tower, which doubled as a sniper's nest. "Hey there!"

The Courier looked up to the towering dinosaur, squinting to see through the sun before catching sight of him through the glare, "Hi, Manny!" She engaged in the superficial conversation, but still let her feet carry her away. "What's up? How's Boone?"

"Same old, same old." Manny replied casually, "Boone left a while back. He didn't say why, just left."

The Courier felt a little twinge of worry, and hoped he was alright. Her mind drifted briefly back to ex-soldier and night-time sniper, Boone, saying he wouldn't stay in Novac for long. That he might even go out hunting Legion. She hoped he could find some resemblance of peace or closer in his travels. That guy had been through hell and he didn't deserve to have things get worse.

Manny continued, shouting down from the dinosaurs' mouth, "Hey, did you find that guy you were looking for?"

"No, no, I haven't found him yet. I'm getting there though." She waved as they continued away, "See you around!"

They trailed past Dinky and walked further down the road, before Carson asked, "You know the Novac snipers?"

"I stopped into Novac a few weeks ago and met them right off. Manny helped me out with something, and then I helped Boone with a… problem of his." She glanced to Carson fleetingly, "Do you know them?"

"Not personally, but I know who they are. Boone always seemed like the…" He trailed off, looking for the right words, "quiet and dangerous type. Guess that's what comes from being an ex-soldier. What'd you help him with?"

"Just… you know, marksmanship. I helped set up targets for him, stuff like that." She hesitated to explain that the targets were live.

A cold feeling of disgust creeping into her core as her mind darted back to Jeannie May Crawford. Out of all the people she could have suspected of being a revolting excuse for a human being, she never would have thought it was Jeannie May, the little old granny that ran the Dino Dee-lite Motel. She seemed so nice and friendly, which made it all the more dumbfounding when the Courier found that bill of sale.

The Courier had done some horrible things in her life, most of which she was not at all proud of, but she just couldn't grasp why someone would do something like Jeannie May did to Boone's wife. She could understand doing awful things that you'd prefer not to do, - sometimes that's just survival - but selling an innocent, pregnant woman into slavery? What's the point in that? What was so crucial to Jeannie May's survival, that she had to resort to that? It's… unfathomable!

Someone like that was too dangerous and, frankly, too _sick_ to be kept alive. That's exactly why the Courier felt an overwhelming sense of justice when Jeannie May's head exploded into a mist of red and a flurry of brain-matter from Boone's shot. The Courier hoped she'd rot in hell.

"Mmm," Carson pondered, "I wouldn't be sure that he wouldn't take my head off."

"Actually, Manny was the one that seemed a bit slippery to me." She remembered back to Manny's countenance quickly morphing from a casual, nice guy to something that rang 'con artist' to her, as soon as he knew she needed his help. But he gave her the information she needed - after she did something for him, of course.

For once, she'd love to ask for something and not be answered with a 'Sure, but get this for me first' or 'Kill this guy for me, then I'll help you'. She always seemed to be someone's delivery-boy, and everything had a catch - which usually meant a danger to her health or well being.

Even her own father, after she spent weeks and weeks risking her life to find him, he barely gave her a, 'I'm glad to see you', then he was asking her to find something for him. All she wanted to do was hug him and say, 'Oh my God, I'm so happy you're not dead!', but was instead told that the greater good took precedence and that she had to help him. For once, she didn't want to help the greater good.

It made it all the more ironic when she was nearly killed, while being an actual delivery-boy. She could almost laugh at the insanity of it. Some things never change.

"Well, in you're case, I suppose. He looked like kind of a 'player' to me." Carson shrugged, "Perspective, I guess."

* * *

><p>The Courier turned on New Vegas Radio as soon as it was in range. Listening to the dull music that gained volume and clarity the closer they got to its source; New Vegas. Carson didn't seem to mind, and even seemed to like it. At least, that's what she assumed when he paced his steps to fall with the tempo of the music. She had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes.<p>

Helen Forrest's voice quieted on the radio waves and Mr. New Vegas' harsh, yet suave tone spoke.

The Courier's ears perked up when she heard him speak of a particular news report, "A package courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness and has made a full recovery. Now _that_ is a delivery service you can count on."

She couldn't refrain from letting a half smile form over her lips. Carson looked to her with amusement in his eyes and his lips forming a question, but before his words could escape, Mr. New Vegas continued with another news broadcast, "A hostage crisis between the NCR and the Great Khans was resolved peacefully when a third party negotiator successfully secured the hostages' release."

Her face must have read 'guilty' because Carson looked to her, asking without saying a word.

Her smile widened guiltily. "Yeah, that was me."

* * *

><p>The lights of New Vegas showed in the distance, lighting up the surrounding Wastes in the darkness. The Lucky 38 casino towering high and proud, illuminated in a collection of various colors, making it even easier to spot for miles around. A sort of pinnacle in the Mohave Wasteland.<p>

They walked until the sun was nearly gone from the sky and set up camp a few hundred yards up the road from the 188 Trading Post, next to a Hoover Dam billboard. She thought the billboard would be good cover, also, their camp wouldn't be too noticeable and it'd be a good wind blocker.

Carson built a fire quickly; using an Energy Cell, some brush, wood, and a knife; while she settled onto the ground, using the billboard for support. The fire was flickering hot and bright and she glanced over to Carson to see him positioning an Iguana on a stick over the fire.

Suddenly, an eating, sick feeling, which was previously ignored, gnawed a little more intensely in her stomach as her hunger demanded attention. She glanced to her bag, which had been laid in the dirt next to her and she knew she couldn't ignore the sick feeling and the minor lightheadedness any longer.

She reached into her bag and pulled out her last Crunchy Mutfruit, looking at it momentarily before she took a bite and savored the taste and the relief of it. Eating it quickly, she began to notice the colors of the fire, and everything else, were starting to look a little brighter and a bit clearer, and the voice of Dean Martin, singing of his love life, sounded a little nicer.

Feeling her senses returning to their full capacity, she found her curiosity budding inside her, "How long have you been in the Mohave?"

"All my life." Carson replied, without looking from what he was doing, "I haven't had any reason to leave. The Mohave has always had plenty to keep me busy."

Mr. New Vegas sounded loudly over the radio as the song ended, "Several unidentified aircraft were spotted flying over the REPCONN Test Site by a local crackpot. He spoke to a toy bear near one of our microphones." A harsh, elderly sounding voice started over the radio, "_"__It__'__s __ghouls, __I __tell __you. __Religious __ghouls __in __rockets, __looking __for __a __land __to __call __their __own. __Don__'__t __you __laugh __at __me! __I __know __a __spell __that__'__ll __make __you __show __your __true __form!__ A __cave __rat __taught __it __to __me._""

Carson sighed a laugh and shook his head. "Cave rats... Careful everyone, we're dealing with a bad-ass here. Don't startle him, he might put a hex on a teddy bear." He joked. Seeming content with the Iguana's place over the fire, he leaned back before continuing, "You never get bored around here."

"Well," She wondered if she should say anything at all, "normally, I'd agree that the guy's a nut job, - which he probably is in every other case - but he's actually right this time."

Her worries were confirmed when he looked at her like she was crazy, "What?"

_Great_. He thought _she_ was a nut job.

"Those 'religious ghouls' _are_ real, and they _did_ fly three rockets out of the REPCONN Test Site."

"You know this, _how_?" He asked hesitantly.

"I was there. I actually helped them launch their rockets. Now, I'm not on board with their little, '_search __for __the __land __of __milk __and __honey_' expedition, but that's what they wanted, so whatever." She shrugged.

He looked at her oddly, with his eyebrows furrowed and hesitant confusion in his eyes. "Why'd you help them?"

"Long story, but basically I needed to clear REPCONN of all the feral ghouls. So instead of going on a killing spree, I just made a deal with the head ghoul, Jason Bright," She chuckled internally as she remember the irony of the 'Glowing One's' last name being 'Bright', "that he'd take care of the feral ghouls, if I cleared out the Nightkins and helped set up the rockets. He did his part, so I helped launch them."

He looked at her oddly, before shaking his head and looked back to the fire. She thought she heard him whisper a patronizing, "_Okay_", under his breath. Changing the subject, Carson asked, "You said you were new in town. Where're you from?"

"The Capital Wasteland." She felt a bit like Three-Dog the way she said it, "Washington DC."

"All the way over on the east coast?" He seemed intrigued, "Wow, you're a long way from home. How did you get clear over here?"

"Decided I needed some new scenery. So I took up job, and when that one was done, I took up another, and so on. Pretty soon, I had traveled clear to the Mohave." She explained, "My most recent one was at the Mohave Express. They offered me a job as a courier, for a good deal of caps. So I took it."

"And that led to your little confrontation, in… Goodsprings, was it?"

"Yeah."

He tipped his head, "Not your best career choice."

She nodded bitterly, "I'd agree with that."

"So, I have to ask. How does the Mohave compare to the Capital?"

She thought for a moment, "Well, it's a toss up. The Capital's climate is nicer, but the air is cleaner here; there are more natural supplies here, but the Capital has more shelter. And the people seemed nicer in the Capital."

"Well, the people in the city are pretty devious, but most of these country towns are nice enough. A couple of the drifters aren't bad either."

She smiled. "The thing I miss most about DC, would be the radio. I'd love to hear a little bit of Galaxy News Radio again."

"Why's that?"

"Well, first off, the music was great - Mr. New Vegas isn't bad either, but he's only a substitute against GNR. And also, the host, Three Dog, was a good guy. He helped me out a lot."

"So you're always this popular?"

"Well, I wasn't as anonymous when Three Dog talked about me." She laughed, "I always seem to attract a strange array of nicknames. In the Capital, I was called The Lone Wanderer, or 101, or The Kid. Now, here, I'm mostly The Courier."

"The Lone Wanderer..." he mused, "That sounds pretty smooth." She simply nodded. After a moment of silence, he spoke up again, "So, Lone, what's the story with the guy who shot you?"

She smiled and sighed a chuckle at the mention of her former name. Strangely, it made her feel more at home. "I don't know, honestly. But I'm going to find out."

"Is that why you're going to New Vegas?"

"Yep. After I left Goodsprings, I headed to Primm and asked around, then I went to Novac - which is where I met Manny and Boone - and from there, I went to Boulder City - where I helped the NCR release the hostages - and they directed me to New Vegas."

"So then how did you end up in the middle of no where?"

"I couldn't pass the credit check in New Vegas and I could afford a counterfeit passport." _And __the __Securitrons __were __too __strong._ Standing in front of the gates of New Vegas, she actually took a second to size up all the robots guarding it, but decided that there was too many. "So I asked around, got a job - which, let's just say, wasn't good for my health or limbs - for about 300 caps. It still wasn't enough, but it was a start. So, lucky for me, there was this lady in some rundown store, who was impressed by my survive ethic, and she hired me for a job. Problem is, she gave me an incomplete map, which failed to mention a serious Radscorpion hotspot."

"Scorpion Gulch?" He asked, knowingly.

"Yep."

Carson shook his head and chuckled bitterly, "Been there. I didn't think it was possible for so many to be in one place."

"Yeah, and then you don't even know how many there are, or what the place is, until you're half way through. And by then, you can't turn back, because there's too many right behind you."

"Exactly. But Flamethrowers work well for those kind of occasions."

She scoffed, "At a distance, maybe."

He raised an eyebrow and looked at her oddly out of the corner of his eye, but didn't say anything else.

Lone starred out across the Wastes. The lights of New Vegas shining in the distance, a small fire burning and crackling in front of her, and Bing Crosby singing faintly. Benny wasn't far away now, and she knew the peace wouldn't last for long.

* * *

><p><strong>DISCLAIMER: I own everything except the characters and story-lines found in the Fallout universe.<strong>

**A/N: The chapter title is This Ain't My First Rodeo by Vern Gosdin. Again, the only relation it has to this chapter is the title and maybe the chorus.**

**Lots of dialogue and a bit of back-story here. I hope the timeline makes more sense now.**


	8. Why Should I Worry

_"From where you're sitting, this must look like an 18-karat run of bad luck. But truth be told..." The Man-In-The-Checkered-Suit's voice is smooth and calm. Almost comforting. But she isn't fooled, she knows this isn't going to turn out well._

_She tries to speak, but chokes on the gag shoved halfway down her throat, making the raw and sore feeling intensify. Her mind seems hazed and unclear. She feels a faint ache in the back of her head and something small and warm trailing down the side of her face._

_He raises his pistol slowly and it aligns with her head. Confirming her fears more then his words already did._

_Stop! No! I didn't do anything! _

_Her words catch in her throat with the panic that rises inside her. Her heartbeat is so fast and so hard, she wonders if it's what's shaking the ground and causing her vision to blur._

_Her wide eyes stare down the hard, steel barrel as every brain cell scrambles for an answer for her present dilemma. Any and every idea flashing fast in her mind, trying to think of something to get her out of this. But her mind fails to think of anything. Every thought in her head slows as cold realization crawls over her. She doesn't have any time. She has to do something now!_

_She struggles hard against her bonds, pulling and twisting her arms and hands, ignoring the raw flesh and burns on her wrists from already fighting the ropes. Slick, hot blood trickles down her wrists and covers her hands, and she tries to use it has lubricant to pull free. But it's not working. _

_Dear God, no. She isn't getting loose. She isn't moving fast enough. She isn't getting out of this._

_She's not fast enough. _

"…_it was rigged from the start."_

_BANG! The ear shattering sound rips through the air instantaneously. A mind shattering force is everywhere and nowhere at once. And then blackness._

_A faint sound. So faint. Blurred, muffled in the blackness. And then gone. The sound is silent. And then it's faint again. Distant. Unclear._

_Where... What... Can't... Can't... Think... Sounds... Need. I... See... Need to..._

_She tries to shift. Ever so slightly... _

_Ah! _

_White, intense pain. Everywhere. No place where it's originating. So sharp. So... Hard. It's... It's everywhere. It's unbearable. Unstoppable. _

_Ah!... Please...Stop it... Please! Gah!_

_It's not stopping. And the sounds are back. A bit louder. It makes the pain worse._

_Please, just...! Ah! Stop!_

_Something feathery touches her. Catching her attention... Barely. But, ah, the pain! There it is again, the feathery substance. On her arm._

_What... What... Ah!_

_God! Her thoughts are bleeding!_

_Why!... Just... Please!... Stop!.. Pain!_

_The substance is back. More constant. On her leg. On her arm. Her chest. Her face. In her mouth. It tastes... It tastes like... _

_Blood... And... Pain!... And... And… Dirt?_

_More... Dirt? Touches her. Is on her. On her face. In her mouth. Her nose. Oh God... She can't breathe! It's everywhere! No... No air!... She... She needs... Air! _

_Please! I... I… breathe… can't…!_

_She tries to gasp, but her body isn't obeying. She can't move, she can't talk, she can't cough, she can't... Breathe!_

_No! Stop! Don't! I!... I didn't do anything! I'm sorry! Stop!_

"Stop!" she gasped, shooting up from the ground.

She was thrown into a coughing frenzy as she gasped for air, her lungs desperately stretching for oxygen that seemed just out of reach. Her muscles are taut and alert, and her chest feeling tight. The suffocating feeling overwhelming her, closing down on her and increasing the tightness in her already heaving chest.

Her hand unconsciously take hold of the Magnum, still holstered at her side. Her eyes anxiously darted around as reality streamed back and soothed away the haze of her nightmare. Her mind taking in the area around her; the sun barely peeking over the horizon as dawn broke, covering the desert in a grey, fog-like atmosphere with a touch of chill in the air. The nearby fire smoldered slowly, the dormant, but still hot coals flickering as it battled against the coolness. Carson leaned peacefully against the billboard with his eyes rested shut in sleep.

Her heartbeat slowed as her lungs finally began grasped enough air. Benny's voice still echoed in her mind, sounding low and quiet. Foreboding, "…it was rigged from the start."

Loosening her hold on her revolver, her hand drifted to her wrists absentmindedly, ghosting over the healed and nearly invisible sores.

She takes in a calming breath and lets it out slowly.

Benny would regret what he did.

* * *

><p>Passing through the tattered and worn metal gates of the Freeside, her senses were assaulted with the smell of alcohol, filth and death before her eyes could take in the mostly empty streets.<p>

"What a lovely place." Lone sneered to herself before looking to Carson, who stood at her side. "So… I guess this brings our deal to a close."

"True." He nodded absentmindedly, as though his thoughts were elsewhere. "But, you know, I haven't been in New Vegas for a while; so maybe I'll stick around? See the sights? Catch a show?" A shadow of a grin tugged at his lips, "Besides, this Benny guy shot you at point blank range and you're coming back to get him. That'll be a show worth watching."

"If Benny is as important as I'm told he is, there'll be plenty of guards and I never found being shot at very entertaining. Although returning the bullet Benny gave me will certainly be… therapeutic; so I suppose you're right." Lone concurred. "If you're planning on sticking around, it'd give you a chance to test out Mercy; and I'd appreciate the backup."

"Well, I have to stay long enough to get my coat back anyways. So I won't mind helping." He shrugged, "So the guy's a big-shot, eh? Where are you planning on finding him at?"

"The Khans in Boulder City told me that he'd be at the Tops Casino."

"Well, unless he's a visitor, the only Benny at the Tops that I know of is Chairman Benny Gecko; and he runs the place."

"They said he was a Chairman. About 6-foot, black hair, wears a black and white checkered suit?" She described him with a practiced fluently.

"That's him. Damn, you don't waste anytime making an impression, do you?" Carson chuckled.

"Well, he's pretty good at leaving impressions too. Especially on my skull."

"I'm not saying you're not justified, but… wow. Blowing up Deathclaws, then taking on the owner of the Tops. I told you you'd never get bored out here."

"So you know him?"

"Well, I'm not friends with him or anything, but the Tops is a nice place - pretty classy. I've been in there a few times and I see him around. That suit of his makes him hard to miss." Carson said, "But he didn't seem like a bad guy to me. I wonder why he shot you?"

"Benny just wanted my package. He flaunted it at me just before he shot me and I didn't have anything else he could want - although the Khans liked my weapons arsenal." She really missed her Alien Disintegrator Rifle. She had gotten use to making her enemies evaporate, instead of diving for cover.

"What was your package?"

"A platinum poker chip." Lone replied. Carson's pace slowed, just a little. When Lone glanced to him, his eyes were looking absentmindedly ahead and she thought he looked just a little paler. "Are you alright?"

"Mmm?" Carson looked back to her, his eyes seeming distant and thoughtful.

"You look paler."

"What? Oh, no it's probably just the lighting. I'm just fine. Must… just be the Cazador poison or something."

"I thought you said the Anti-Venom handled that?" A growing concern raised Lone's voice.

"It did. I'm fine, really." He waved his hand, as though dismissing the subject, "So Platinum Chip, eh? Maybe gold chips don't cut it for him anymore?"

Lone hesitated to continue, but still rolled her eyes at the joke, "But to kill for it?" She furrowed her eyebrows and pressed her lips together thoughtfully, "I don't know. A platinum chip just doesn't seem significant enough to go to all the trouble he did. There has to be more then this." She shook her thoughts clear, "Well, I'm definitely finding out what the hell is going on."

She started off down the road, Carson keeping in step with her.

"So, just out of curiosity, after convincing the Great Khans that you'd ensure their safe escape if they'd released their hostages, how'd you get them to talk about Benny?" Carson asked

"They seemed pretty forthcoming with the information, I didn't have to do much bribing. Maybe because being dead does wonders as an intimidation factor? That, added to the fact that I killed one of their friends, when they were trying to take my package, might have made them fairly inclined to answer all my questions."

"Khans aren't the brightest matches in the box, but they aren't stupid either. They usually relent to whoever pays the most or has the bigger gun and the most ammo." Carson continued to ask a different question, "Mr. New Vegas didn't mention what happened to the Khans; he just said that the hostage problem was handled. Did you just let the guys that helped in your attempted murder just walk out, scot-free, or what?"

"Uh, no." She answered quickly, "I shot them in both their knees, then told the NCR to have a hay day."

Carson laughed. "That's more like it."

Lone passed a familiar old rundown store and stopped. Carson halted as well and looked at her questioningly.

She waved him on, "I have to tie up some loose ends and buy a passport. I'll just meet you at The Strip gates?"

"Alright, I wanted to sell off some of the whiskey at the Atomic Wrangler, anyways." He slipped her bag off his arm and handed it to her before continuing towards the next gate. He made it a few steps before calling over his shoulder, "Oh, and don't bother with a passport, I already have one. Save your caps, you'll just come as my guest."

"Oh, alright. Thanks."

That would make things so much easier, and save her about 500 caps. She had tried Ralph to lower the price, but with Mick lingering nearby, he didn't seem too inclined.

_"That's awful steep, don't you think? You sure you couldn't lower that a bit, honey?" Lone asked, resting her chin on the back of her hand and leaning across the table._

_She could see Ralph's resolve softening, "Well..."_

_But, as if on cue, Mick strolled over and ruined the whole thing, "What's going on here?"_

_Ralph snapped out of his trance, "Oh, uh - I - I was just helping this lady here. But I - uh - don't think I have anything she needs in stock."_

Lone was glad she could avoid the whole issue.

* * *

><p>Lone walked into the small, dimly lit, neglected store. She scanned the room quickly and caught notice of Donna, reclined in a small, wooden chair in the far corner of the room, behind the store counter.<p>

Donna looked up at the sound of the door and her expression went from bored to intrigued at the sight of Lone, "Well, look what the Nightstalker dragged in." She stood from her chair and leaned on the counter, "Nice coat."

Lone made her way across the store and mirrored Donna's stance against the counter. "Thanks." She said with a small grin.

"So, do you have it?"

Lone reached into her bag and lifted out the Double Vision, holding it eye height with a proud grin.

Donna's eyes widened in satisfaction as they locked on it. She reached out and grasped it in her fingers carefully, as though it were priceless and fragile, studying it attentively.

"So what does it do?" Lone asked, a little more intrigued, "Medical wise?"

"It increases your perception like you wouldn't believe. Intensifies all your senses." Donna answered without looking away from it, "You could hear a pin drop thirty feet away, see things in much greater detail… the list goes on and on."

"So it makes you higher then a kite. Like Jet?"

"Ehh, _kind of_. But it's not that hard of a drug. It doesn't have as many side affects, at least that I know of, and it's less addictive."

"And it's very rare."

"Yes, definitely. I've only seen two ever. They stopped making them right before the Great War."

"So, without me, you may have never seen one again. Am I right?" Lone asked. Donna's eyes shifted to her warily. "That brings me to my next problem. I ran into some issues getting back and had to get creative, so I think we'll need to discuss payment." Lone gently plucked the Double Vision from Donna's hands.

"Hey now, wait a minute." Donna warned sternly, standing to her full height, "We had a deal."

Lone stayed leaning calmly against the counter, "That we did, Donna. The deal was, I get you the Double Vision at all costs and you give me a fair amount of caps for it. Now, I went to every extent to ensure that this serum was delivered to you - endangering my own health and well being - so that I could hold up my part of the deal. I went far out of my way so that you could have this rare little commodity in its perfect condition. You didn't make it easy for me, Donna, but I did what it took to get the job done - now isn't that the very quality for which you hired me? Isn't that kind of reliability worth a few extra caps, Donna?" Lone's voice sounded calm and rational, faintly reminding her of a politician, "Now I'm not being disagreeable, Donna, not at all. All I ask is that you reimburse the cost of the equipment that was damaged and destroyed while I was on the job. Is that too much to ask, Donna? After all I've done?"

Donna looked at Lone for a long while. Studying her warily and hesitantly, and Lone could see the gears and wheels turning in her mind. Finally, after a few moments, Donna relented.

"All right. I guess you have a point. So how much is it?" She asked, reaching into her drawer.

Lone added it up quickly in her head, "300 caps should cover it."

Donna hesitated for a moment, but lifted the appropriate amount of caps from her drawer, in a small bag. "And then another 600 for the Double Vision."

"That's correct." Lone nodded, taking the small bagful and handing the Double Vision to her with her other hand. "A pleasure doing business with you. Keep me in mind the next time you need something done."

"I'll do that."

* * *

><p>After stopping by Gun Runners and having her assault rifle, knife and magnum repaired as well as replenishing her ammo, she bought new armor, stocked up on medical supplies, food and water from various stores around the Freeside.<p>

Altogether, she emerged as ready as she was going to be, with still about 400 caps in her bag and finally, that underlining, unnerving tension of not being fully prepared was gone.

She expected to have at least one Freeside thug attack her, now that she had nice new things and plenty of caps on her, but none did. She assumed it was because she blew off the heads' of the first few that attempted to shiv her, without a second thought.

When she first came to the Freeside, a group of four tried to attack her, all armed with knifes. But yelling 'sneak attack!' wasn't a very good battle strategy, so she was able to shoot most of them before they got too close. The only injury she obtained was when one caught her across her forearm with his knife as she tried to deflect it, but the cut was shallow and showed as only a faint scar now, thanks to the recent Stimpak.

Lone found Carson waiting outside the Atomic Wrangler. They stepped towards The Strip North Gate and a Securitron rolled up to meet them, quickly demanding a credit check of 2,000 caps or a passport. Carson lifted his passport from his pocket and showed it to the hulking robot who, after inspecting it closely and insuring that Lone was with Carson, welcomed them and allowed them through.

The Lucky 38 seemed even larger once inside the gates. Flashing and blinking in all its flamboyant and neon glory, and towering high above them, it proved that it was certainly the center piece of New Vegas.

Starring up to it, Lone couldn't help but admire it. "I wonder what it looks like on the inside."

"No one knows. It's been locked down like a fortress for years." Carson told her as he glanced to the group of Securitrons guarding the entrance.

"So no one's been in or out?"

"Nope, it's the residence of Mr. House. I guess he doesn't like visitors."

One Securitron rolled over towards them, the image on its screen quickly changed from a police officer to a cowboy, and it greeted Lone with an all too familiar drawl, "Howdy partner! You've come a far piece, haven't you? Welcome to New Vegas."

"Oh, hi, Victor. I'm afraid I can't talk right now. I have to go say 'hi' to 'fancy-pants'." Lone smiled as she quoted Victor's nickname for Benny.

"Sure you are, I know you're fixing to serve up some vengeance, but I'm gonna have to point you to the Lucky 38. Mr. House, the head honcho of New Vegas, is itching to make you're acquaintance. He'll help you serve that cold dish of yours extra-chilly."

She starred back at the emotionless screen as her mind fought with the newly presented option. The head honcho of New Vegas wanted to see her, or better yet, _help_ her. Why?

Something about it rang 'corporate battle' to her. The head of New Vegas vs. the head of the Tops, is what it sounded like. Why else would someone that important want to meet her?

She honestly didn't want to be a part of that and she didn't want to wait any longer. She had spent too long hunting Benny down to be detoured by a personal war, and she wasn't going risk him leaving - if he was even there still. She just wanted to get in, find out what was going on, shoot the bastard and get out. She'd explore other avenues after that task was completed.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'd like to handle this myself." She told Victor, "Tell Mr. House that I might stop by later?"

"Don't you dawdle, little doggy. Mr. House isn't someone you want to go about snubbing. He'll be waiting." Victor seemed to nod before rolling away.

Carson shook his head, "You're just full of surprises."

* * *

><p><strong>DISCLAIMER: I own everything except the characters and story-lines found in the Fallout universe.<strong>

**A/N: The chapter title is Why Should I Worry, by Billy Joel. **

**Internet! You have failed me! Why can't there be a Fallout: New Vegas script floating around? That'd make cannon scenes so much easier.**

**Wow, these chapter keep getting longer. I'm really not trying to ramble, it just seems that there's so much to say about a small scene in F:NV. Too long?**

**Next chapter: Say 'hello' to Benny!**

**EDIT: Changed some dialogue.**


	9. Hotel California

The Tops had high ceilings, large expansive rooms and lively music playing over the speakers with friendly chatter echoing through the building. It was bright, fun and, as Carson said, classy. It seemed complete in a way - even though it could use a paint job, and from the outside, was obviously missing a large part of the highest floor - but it seemed _whole_ and… _civilized_.

She had thought Rivet City was amazing in comparison to the rest of DC, but the entirety of Rivet City only showed as an old shack against just the Tops, let alone New Vegas.

But there was an… _undercurrent_ of something. An aura in the place. Like there was something just beneath the surface that shouldn't be explored. It made her uneasy - or rather, _uneasy-er_.

"Hey, hey, babydoll. Welcome to the Tops Casino and Hotel." A man from behind the front desk greeted Lone, "I'm going to have to ask you to hand over any weapons you might be carrying."

On cue, two hulking male guards stepped from their stations near the doors and shadowed their sides forebodingly.

The guards stood taller than her by nearly a foot; glasses - shielding their eyes; their jackets held snuggly around their large biceps - no doubt stronger then her; slight bulge under their coats by their hips - they were packing.

Lone's eyes traveled back to the greeter, "Why?"

"Security, baby. Can't make the bread if the bakers are full of lead." He smiled, "Don't worry; you're safe as houses in here, courtesy of _Mr_. House."

"It's fine, just do as he says." Carson said at her side as he unhooked his weapon box.

She looked at him circumspectly and wondered if he forgot the whole purpose of them being there.

But she relented, "Alright."

After handing over her holstered Magnum and bag of weapons, under the pretense of adjusting her coat, she slipped her combat knife - hidden by the long trench coat - from her leg to under her waistband, so that it was completely concealed from sight.

She wanted to find Benny before he could be tipped off, and getting in a firefight at the front desk won't help that cause. But she sure as hell wasn't going in unarmed.

"Smooth and easy, just the way as I like it. Don't worry; they'll be as safe as kittens 'till your ready to leave. Oh, and a friendly word of advice: if you stumble over any weapons while you're here, well… don't wear them openly, you dig?"

"I'll keep it in mind, thanks." Her eyes discreetly following where they took the weapons.

"Now that we got that little business out of the way, what can I do to make your Tops experience, the top?" The greeter asked warmly.

"Nothing right now, thanks." Carson answered, "We'll give you a heads up if we need anything though."

The greeter nodded, "Have a good time."

"Thanks." She replied half-heartedly.

"Always a pleasure." Carson tipped his head.

Damn it. Without her guns, she'd play like hell trying to get at Benny. Even if she was able to stab him with her combat knife, there was no doubt that she'd face a few of his well armed guards or friends. She'd need a distraction. Once Benny saw her, he'd probably recognize her, so she'd have to lure him away some other way.

Maybe a small explosion? That'd provide enough cover for her to activate a Stealth Boy, sneak over to Benny and pull him away to get some answers, or maybe even just slit his throat and leave before anyone noticed. All she'd need was a few copper wires, - which she could pull from a slot machine - a knife and-

Carson tugged at her arm and broke her thought process. He leaned in close to her and said discreetly, "We need to talk to Swank - the other guy at the front desk. If we get him on our side, this'll be much smoother sailing."

Well… okay. That would be an easier tact. Make some friends in high places; rather then cause a large explosion which would result in mass chaos.

"Right." Lone nodded and stepped up to the desk.

The second man smiled charmingly, "_Hello_, baby. Welcome to the Tops. What can I do for you?"

"Hi." She rested her arms on the desk and smiled brightly, "I didn't catch your name, who are you?"

"Baby, I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you. My name's Swank. This here's my joint."

"Just keep dreaming big, Swank." Carson joked, "What would Benny say?"

"Hey, I keep this place in one piece. That's gotta count for something. I'm Benny's right-hand guy, you dig?"

Lone glanced around, "Well, this looks like a nice place; you're running it like a dream." She locked eyes with Swank and studied him kindly, before leaning in further, "You know, Swank, you look like a good guy to me. I think there's something you should know about. It's about Benny."

"_Really_?" He leaned back, sounding like it wasn't the first time he heard that, "You got something to say about the big boss, huh? Well, why don't you say it to his face instead of yapping at me?"

Carson lowered his voice to a serious tone, "Look, we're not trying to sneak around here, we just think you should know about it in advance. It could affect your business here."

"Benny hasn't been playing fair." Lone said, all charm leaving her tone.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" He became suddenly serious.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you, Swank; Benny tried to kill me and then stole a Platinum Chip I was hired to deliver."

Swank's expression went blank before wheeling into confusion, "That doesn't - why would he pull a stunt like that?" He shook his head in frustration, "Got any proof?"

Lone slipped her hand into her pocket and lifted out a small, silver, engraved object, "I have his lighter I found it in Boulder City; the Great Khan's he worked with had it." She dropped it to his open palm, "Also, they aren't much, but I found these cigarette butts near my grave; also Benny's."

Cigarette butts were petty, Lone knew it, but when she was searching her grave, - strangely, something that wasn't as disturbing as she thought it'd be - they were the only pieces of evidence she found, so she took what she could get. Eight altogether, left from the short time Benny was there. And Lone thought _Jericho_ was a smoker.

"Yeah, that looks like his lighter, and these are Benny's brand and they're not too common. Anything else?"

"Saved the best for last." She lifted out a paper, stained a light brown, that she had been protecting with her life, "The Khan's had this letter on them. A Tops Chairman, named Benny, wanted an escort to Goodsprings; where I was shot."

Swank took the note and his eyes scanned it carefully, his eyebrows creased in concentration.

He let out an aspirated sigh, "I think we got a problem on our hands. Tell you what, I'll call Benny and keep him away from his suite. You go search the place." He tucked the evidence into his coat pocket and lifted something from under the counter, "Here's the key; it's on the 13th floor and it's the room with the double doors. Maybe you'll find something we can show to Mr. House and get him arrested."

"Alright." She grasped the keys tightly. She had no intention of getting him arrested.

"Groovy. Here's your stuff back - in case you run into company back there, you dig? I'll tell the boys to give you a pass to pack some heat. Go on then. Elevators are past the slot machines on your left."

"Much appreciated."

* * *

><p>In the ride up to the 13th floor, Lone swung open the trench coat she was wearing and slid her hand across her waistband, taking hold of her knife and slipping it back into its holster in one, swift movement. Letting the smooth, brown leather close around her form again, she straightened up to find Carson watching her peculiarly.<p>

He ran his eyes the length of her, before shaking his head and breathing a chuckle. "You're experienced in smuggling?"

She gave a half smile, "I believe the term is, 'This ain't my first rodeo'."

* * *

><p>The large double doors on the 13th floor unlocked with a near inaudible <em>click<em> and with a gentle push, swung open easily. Carson and Lone mirrored each other, with their hands hovering cautiously over their sidepieces as the doors opened into a seemingly empty room. They took a careful step inside the living room-style area and after a quick glance around, they discovered themselves alone and began to search the area.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Carson inquired as he ducked down to examine the personal bar.

"The Platinum Chip." Lone glanced inside a wardrobe, but found nothing of value, "Or anything else that's mine and may be incriminating."

The room was most empty, besides the few furnishings, so she stepped into the bedroom. She scanned it briefly, checking a few drawers, before moving to a nearby door. It opened into a tiny room with a gaping hole in its wall, giving full view to a larger, less fancy and dimly lit room that looked old and unkept, as well as a large Securitron.

Her hand instinctively went to her revolver, but it greeted her without hesitation. "Hey! Hi there, good to meet you! What can I do for _you_ today?" It sounded cheery and enthusiastic.

She stared at it warily, half-expecting to be attacked with a volley of laser rounds any second, but the Securitron's screen just smiled back.

"Carson!" She called over her shoulder, "I found something!"

She heard Carson move through the bedroom and glanced back to see him stop as he caught sight of by the robot, "Whoa. Who are you?"

"Good question!" It replied happily, "My function is to monitor Mr. House's data network and decode his encrypted transmissions. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm a PDQ-88b Securitron, but you can call me, Yes Man!"

"Yes Man?" Lone said, as if testing it on her tongue, "If you belong to Mr. House, then why are you here? And what _is _'here' exactly?"

"This is Benny's workplace. When the Tops got renovated, he had this half the floor blocked off for his own use. I don't think I've ever left this room; but that's okay, I'm not complaining."

"Have you seen Benny lately?" She took a careful step through the hole in the wall and her eyes took in the room.

"He was around here not too long ago. He's probably down on the casino floor now. You can wait for him here, if you like? I'm incapable of asking you to leave."

"Incapable?" Carson asked as he stepped into the room.

"I can't say no. I used to be just like all those other Securitron out on the Strip, but then my neuro-computational matrix was completely reprogrammed, to be nice! Very, very nice! I was also programmed to answer any questions I was asked, but no one bothered to restrict who I answer questions for. That's probably pretty dumb, huh?"

"It at least explains the name. And definitely makes this interrogation easier." Carson looked to Lone questioningly, "Does it count as an interrogation if they answer all the questions without any force?"

"I'm just glad I don't have to rewire him to get him to talk."

"You could do that?" Carson seemed surprised.

"Yeah, I'm pretty fluent in science. It wouldn't be _too _difficult. I'd just have to pry off the cover on his back, cut and rewire the primary function circuit panel, then connect it to-"

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this discussion." Yes Man's voice cut it, sounding apprehensive.

"Long story short, I'm glad I don't have to worry about it.". She turned her attention back to Yes Man, "So, since you work for Benny, do you know anything about a 'Platinum Chip' he has?"

"Yeah, Benny had me look at it a bunch of times." Yes Man answered brightly, "It's a data storage device, kind of like a holotape, but much more advanced. As for what's on it, well… some of Mr. House's data transmissions made it sound like the Chip could upgrade his defenses somehow. That's just a guess though. The Chip's a proprietary format and you'd need special hardware to read the data on it! There are two locations with non-standard hardware on the network - the Lucky 38 and an underground facility at Fortification Hill. I'd look there!"

"Do you know what Benny's planning to do with the Chip?"

"Oh, he wants to kill Mr. House and use the Platinum Chip to copy my neuro-computational matrix onto the Lucky 38's mainframe. That should give me control over all of Mr. House's defenses - most prominently, the Securitrons! And then I just do what Benny tells me - easy peasy!"

Carson stepped forward, "So, just out of curiosity, does the plan only work for Benny, or could it apply to anyone? Say, us?" He waved a hand between Lone and himself.

"Sure! And I'd have to help. I mean, it seems pretty obvious that Benny wouldn't want me to, but _hey_, not my fault I can't say no."

"What are the details?"

"Again, goal number one is to eliminate Mr. House and install my neuro-computational matrix on the Lucky 38's mainframe. Given how you're a new arrival, I also recommend that you get to know some the region's tribes, so you can decide how you _feel_ about them. By the time you've finish up all that, the Legion should be close to attacking the Hoover Dam and we'll execute the last faze of the plan."

Before Lone could ask what he meant by 'attack the Hoover Dam', Carson asked, "So what was your plan to kill House?"

"It makes me feel really dumb to admit this, but I don't actually know. I've never been in the Lucky 38 - no one has. Mr. House is in there though. It's the central node of his entire network! "

"I've been invited to the Lucky 38."

"Wow. Do you have any idea how special that is? Red carpet treatment! I mean Benny was always scheming about how he was going to get into the Lucky 38, but you already took care of that. Wow." His tone shifting from admiration, he continued, "The other thing you're going to need is the platinum chip. You know, the one that Benny killed the courier for, over near Goodsprings?"

The lighthearted aura Yes Man had instilled suddenly vanished and Lone became suddenly very serious, "You know about the courier Benny shot?"

She hadn't expected Yes Man to know anything about her.

Yes Man was unaffected and replied cheerily, "I knew she was carrying the platinum chip and I knew right where Benny could wait for her. That's why Benny put me here - to monitor Mr. House's data transmission. They're all encrypted of course, but I'm quite the decrypter. Did you know that Mr. House spent 812,545 caps hiring salvage teams to find the platinum chip, just in the last year alone? Or that there were seven couriers, but six of them were carrying junk. How about their exact route? Or the mercenary teams that screened them? I knew all that. Pretty smart, huh?"

Part of her was angry with this idiotic droid for planning her execution and setting her up; but part of her felt like she was talking to a toddler - one that had access to limitless knowledge and was three times her size, but was being manipulated. He was friendly and kind, but smart and calculated and... _Diabolical_? If he were human, she'd describe Yes Man as psychotic.

Lone just listened silently and stared back at the smiling screen. Complete bemusement washed over Carson's features and his eyes slowly moved to Lone, silently asking, 'Should you tell him or can I?'

Lone took a breath and said kindly, "That's pretty interesting. _I_ didn't even know some of those things... and I'm Courier Six."

Yes Man gave an artificial laugh, "I know that's not true, because you still have a head."

"No, she's serious." Carson assured him, still holding back an unbelieving grin. "Trust me."

"Benny should have used a bigger round."

Yes Man laughed again, but his laughter quickly quieted, then completely died, "That's not funny - you getting shot in the head. I really shouldn't have taken so much pride in setting that up. I feel really bad now."

Carson just laughed.

Lone shook her head, "So where's the Chip?"

"Benny carries it with him at all times. I think he's paranoid that someone might want to take it from him. The platinum chip is the key to overriding and exploiting Mr. House's defenses." He paused, "Did I just say 'exploiting'? That's not a very nice word."

"You're kind of screwed up, Yes Man, really." Carson scoffed, "Because after bursting with pride about setting up an execution, then talking about an assassination like it's a girl-scout cookie-route, 'exploiting' seriously pales."

"I said I was sorry."

"_Anyways_," Lone broke in, "if I were to take the Chip, what would I do with it?"

"I'd take it straight to Mr. House, if I were you. He'll think you're helping, then when he's not looking - kerpow! The big question is whether to give him the Chip before you do him in. He might upgrade his defensive capabilities or even unlock new ones. But then the upgrades might make it harder for you to finish him off. Hard to say; it's up to you. Let me know when it's done and I'll roll over to the Lucky 38 and install myself on House's mainframe." "This is going to be great! I'm going to help you accomplish so much! Whether I want to or not!"

"I'm going to look into this. Thanks for the information." Lone's eyes wandered the room in a quickly glance and caught sight of a dark colored, nearly unnoticeable door near Yes Man. "I'll come back to talk to you later."

"Sure thing. It's so lonely here, sometimes."

She looked at the door curiously before closing the gap between herself and it, and tried the handle. It creaked and let out a quiet, high pitched squeal that told her it wasn't often used, and opened into a long and seemingly abandoned hallway.

She stepped out into the hall and a few broken and incomplete silver tiles shifted and cracked under her feet. She wandered down the hall for a moment and noticed that it was lined with more doors.

She lifted her hand to one and ran her fingers over the room numbers, "It's some sort of back alley to all the other rooms."

"Yeah. Probably meant for a quick escape." Carson called back as he glanced down the hall, "Anyways, we have more then enough evidence to incriminate Benny now."

"Yep. So let's go say 'hi'."


	10. The Game Is On

"And you're _positive_ Swank wouldn't have tipped Benny off?" Lone asked as her soles stepped off plush carpeting of the elevator and onto cold tile of the casino floor.

"No, no worries there. Swank's been looking for something to pin on Benny for a long time - he wouldn't shoot himself in the foot like that." Carson assured her, "Swank's a nice guy, but, - just like everyone else around here - he's trying to make it to the top of the pile. If Benny's out of the way, Swank takes his place as head Chairman, so it's the perfect situation for him. There's plenty of evidence for him to use against Benny and if he's lucky, two random people could handle the problem for him. Then, if it all goes south, who's going to blame him?"

She nodded absentmindedly, "Alright - makes sense. Then he has to be here somewhere."

They stepped down the large hallway towards the main room, their eyes keenly scanning the faces of the customers. The image of Benny's face, shadowed slightly in the dark, but illuminated in the moonlight, was still imprinted in her mind.

"And with any luck, he's wearing that black and white jacket of his, so he'll be easy to pick out. Which - you know, if you think about it - why wear something so recognizable, if you're going to go around killing people?" Carson pondered, "Hmm… probably has attention issues or something. Wears it as kind of a sign to say, 'I can afford to look this stupid'."

A small breath of a chuckle escaped her. Her eyes caught sight of his choice in décor before she noticed his face, and the man in the checkered suit was more than obvious to Lone. He leaned over a roulette table, placing small, white pieces on numbers he deemed lucky as he made his bet. Benny held himself with an authoritive air and she wasn't sure if it was because of his Chairman title, or the five or six men bodyguards that stood near him.

"There." Lone stated, her voice hard, causing Carson's eyes follow her line of sight to lock on Benny.

Possible plans of action played quickly in her mind. The StealthBoy idea might still work. She had her answers now, so she wouldn't have to question him. Just a quick blade to the throat. Or Carson could provide a distraction with the Mercy?

She could shoot him from here. Quick assault rifle round to the head? Or better yet, Carson's silenced _and_ scoped hunting rifle. That'd provide more accuracy and with a silenced round, it take them longer to find where it came from. She wondered if Carson would let her borr-

A small notion in the back of her head reminded her that she wasn't alone, and pulled her from her thoughts. She leaned closer to Carson, but kept her eyes on Benny.

"Okay, I have an idea. Keep him from leaving the room; I'm going to the second floor. I need your rifle." She spoke in a low tone.

Carson's eyes glanced fleetingly to her, but took a double take as he grasped the intention in her words, "Whoa, whoa, _easy_, Rambo. Let's just think this out for a minute. Don't you want to talk to him?"

"I don't really need to, and the abundant amount of guards supports that decision."

"Well yeah, you don't _need_ to, and when you say it like that, it sounds loony, but just take a second to look at it." He reasoned, "Although there's always a possibility, I doubt he'll try to have you killed right here. More than likely, he doesn't want a firefight in the middle of his casino, with all his paying customers around. He'd probably take the safety off if you try shooting him up right here in the open, so I wouldn't advise that; but you could talk to him."

That was an idea. Carson had a point; it wasn't very likely Benny would pull a gun on her. He didn't seem like an idiot - maybe not the best of assassins, but not an idiot. She was sure he'd make a run for it if he saw her, so she couldn't make an extravagant entrance.

"Seriously," Carson continued, "when will you get a chance to do something like this again? Even if you know why, don't you want to see the look on his face when you shoot it?"

There was a bit of intrigue at the idea of seeing how her executioner would react to her return, but more then anything, she wanted him dead. She'd lost her… _taste_; you could call it… for theatrics within her first year out of the Vault. She learned that sometimes you just have to get the job done, despite the poetics. Although, the idea was still most interesting.

Her eyes stayed ahead, directly locked on Benny as her mind mulled it over quickly.

"Alright." She relented, briskly moving across the room, "I'm going to get close to him. I'll need you to keep your distance, but be ready to intervene - just in case."

Benny seemed to be enjoying himself, watching the roulette wheel spin and waiting in anticipation to see if his choice was the right one. Lone took a breath, letting her features relax and muscles unwind as her quick walk turned into a meaningful saunter.

One guard glared at her cautiously as she drew near, but she returned his gaze with a bright smile, moving pass him without hesitance and - much to her satisfaction - he let her go without question.

A brief flash from her memory of the first time she did something like this, showed in her mind. Used her - as someone once called them - 'wiles' to get something done. Mr. Burke - she hadn't been out of the Vault a week, when he ushered her over and offered a good deal of caps to detonate the bomb in Megaton. She remembered how horrible she felt after sweet talking him out of it - like a charlatan. But after awhile, she noticed that it saved her a lot of time and harm.

All she had to do was smile, sway her hips a little and use the occasional 'honey' or 'baby', and all of the sudden, problems were solved. She still didn't like it though; she still felt like an idiot and would rather reason with them or just shoot them and be over with it. But she wasn't always the better armed one. Sometimes she had to be a little persuasive.

This was such a case.

Lone moved through the crowd with ease, and she slipped her arm sensually around Benny's waist as she rested her chin gently on his shoulder. In a hidden, fluent movement, she slipped her knife from her leg holster and - it shielded from sight by her own body - she poised it to hover just at his low back.

Benny glanced fleetingly over his shoulder at her touch and a smile spread over his face. A small crowd surrounded the table, the excitement of the game kept everyone's eyes on the table and the roulette wheel.

Picking up a piece, Benny raised it to her lips with a smile, "Hey, baby, want to make this luc-" There was a brief moment of friendliness before what she knew as recognition sparked in his eyes. His face paled and his voice dropped to a deep whisper, "_What in the Goddamn_." Unbelief, brief panic, than shock settled in his eyes. "Whoa, let's keep this in the groove, hey? Smooth moves like smooth little babies." A faked calm entered his tone.

She touched the blade to his back, aligning it with his spine. Feather light, but still an ominous threat. At this proximity, she could feel his muscles tense even further and could nearly feel his pulse quicken. "My sentiments exactly, '_baby'_. And no thanks, by the way, just keep playing - Benny, was it?" Lone spoke casually, but low. "When you shot me, you ran off so fast I never got your name"

The bustle of the table hid their tones and the attention of everyone was on the wheel as it spun; the small ball being tossed and clattered around.

"What - you making a pass at me, sister?" He scoffed, "Because I'm out of your league."

"Certainly not in marksmanship." She sneered, "And don't flatter yourself. I'm just playing my cards right - isn't that how Vegas works?" Lone asked kindly.

"That's a fact, doll; you're fitting right in." His eyes moved to the table again as he placed a small white chip down; trying to seem civil to any prying eyes. His voice only heard to her, "But I hit my mark. You must just have brains to spare; or you're just thick headed? Because, excuse me for saying, dollface, but you're suppose to be dead."

Her eyes watched absently as he made his bet, but her mind was solely on him. "I'm pretty adaptable."

"I don't think you can adapt around a bullet."

"Well, I'm not unleaded, if that's what you mean. Scarred, but not dead." She took a breath, "You're certainly a hard man to find, Benny. I've spent a lot of time and resources to get to this point, so I'm not going to play around."

"Just what I was thinking, sugar. What say you and me cash out, go somewheres more private like? Any questions you got, I'll answer."

She paused a moment. It certainly sounded tempting… but something didn't feel right about that. He was a slippery one, and right now, he was in her grasp - more literally than she had planned. She didn't intend on letting him go.

"I appreciate the offer, but I've talked to Yes Man, Benny, so I already know everything I want to."

"_Baby_, this is not the place to go talking about that." He growled as his eyes darted to the other players. He continued much harsher, "Like I said, we should talking somewheres _private_." The cheers of the latest roulette winner hid his words.

_Cocky bastard._

"_I'm_ _fine_ discussing it _right here_." She hissed back, pressing her knife a little harder into his back, "I have a good reason for you to _shut_ your mouth and play nice. Do you have a reason for me _not_ to kill you?"

"You want a reason, how about _four_? They're called _bodyguard_ and _everyone_ of them is packing. Me too - so, baby makes five. After that, every Chairman in this joint is armed and not with some pocket knife like maybe you smuggled through security." He took a breath and calmed his tone back to polite, "Anyhow, baby, you didn't come here for vengeance, you came to get clued in."

"Let's see how well you call for help with a severed _spine_? And I bet you everything, they can't shoot me faster that I can _shiv_ this right into your back." She pressed her knife a little deeper to emphasize each word, "And don't be so sure of yourself. Vengeance is sounding _pretty_ sweet right about now, so it'd be in your best interest to not toy with me. I'll tell you what, I want the Platinum Chip and I want it now; give it to me and there will be minimal disturbance."

"I can't do that, baby, and you know it. There's a lot of angles to this caper - complexity aplenty. But plenty of action too - enough for the both of us. But we don't jabber about it in the open, so, like I said, we should be talking somewheres private."

"Talking in the open doesn't bother me. I have nothing hide or lose, whereas you have plenty. Just give me the Chip and save yourself some time and pain."

"Hey, if a shootout is what you want, by all means, baby, go ahead." Benny switched his tactic, "But people get nervous when the bullets are flying, and you don't want a riot, now do you, sugar? Let's just go and talk it out, you dig?"

"Whether a riot starts or not, isn't my concern. Anything that needs to be said can be said here. If you want to make this into a shooting, then lets see if you can finish what you started." She taunted quietly, "Think about it, Benny. I've come back from the dead, tracked you across the desert and killed anything in my way. Do you really want to screw me over?"

She wouldn't loose him. She had done too many favors, put herself in far too much danger and sacrificed too much to loose him now. Dead or alive, she'd finish him.

"That temper of yours…" He cocked his head to the side, placing another chip down. Her eyes absently watched the small white pieces, but something drew her attention. "It's going to get you in a lot of trouble one day, dollface."

In the faint back of her mind, she noticed he placed the pieces in an odd formation. She wasn't too familiar with roulette, but she wasn't sure that was part of the game. What was the point in that? What did that mea-?

She drew in a sharp breath as she felt the familiar pressure of a gun's barrel against her back. Even through her clothing, it dug into her healing, but tender injuries and made her chest tighten from the pain. Her skin shied away from the hard metal as it began to tingle with the anticipation of a bullet.

_Cocky bastard._

She wheeled around and clamped her hand firmly onto guard's wrist and gun, shoving away the barrel just as his finger impulsively pulled the trigger and sent a bullet flying into the wall. Her eyes caught sight of Benny dashing away as the room erupted into screams with the quick _crack_ of the small caliber pistol. Her blade followed her actions quickly and stabbed deep into the bodyguard forearm, surpassing tendons and muscles, and sticking deep into his bone.

The gun fell from his hand as he yelled in pain. With a hard yank, Lone pulled the knife from his arm and sent a swift kick into his stomach. As another nearby bodyguard drew his piece to assist, Lone caught sight of Carson appearing from the chaotic crowd and taking ahold of a guard's armed hand.

As her attacker stumbled back from her kick, Lone drew her holstered Magnum in an instant and fired just as the barrel was free. With a deafening gunshot, his stomach exploded into a hole of gushing blood and entrails. Raising the gun higher, she sent another round into his head, bursting it into a mist of pink and chunks of red across the poker and roulette tables.

Her attention moved to the other guard to see him collapse onto the ground and his gun being held firmly in Carson's hand.

Carson's eyes met hers with a look of urgency. "13th floor." Carson called over the screaming people, answering the question in her eyes.

She gave a fleeting nod of agreement as she turned on her heel and they sprinted to the elevators.

Dashing into one, Lone lifted two 44. rounds from her pocket as the doors closed in front of them. She pressed them into her Magnum and, with the flip of her wrist, swung the cylinder shut.

_I'm coming for you, Benny.  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This was one of the hardest, yet most fun chapters I've written yet. **

**Benny is such an interesting character and I didn't realize the full depth of that, until I was studying his dialogue to write this. **

**Yet I wanted to shoot myself because I couldn't figure out how get all I wanted into this chapter, while staying in the cannon of the scene. So what did I do? I changed it around a bit, so Ta Da!**


	11. Revenge

As the elevator doors rolled open metallically, a high toned, but quiet and cheery _ding_ chimed out into the confines of the car - sounding humorously out of place under the current circumstances. But the soft sound went unheard by Lone, who stared ahead with a blank, but hard gaze. Deep in both thought and preparation.

As the doors rolled out of sight, Carson and Lone, in unison, took a determined step over the threshold and into the expansive hall. Just as the plush carpeting began to morph under their weigh and their bodies peeked, obliviously, out from the elevator, the world suddenly burst and was consumed in chaos as an onslaught of gunfire ensued.

They recoiled backwards and stumbled into the partial protection of the elevator as their arms impulsively rose as shields and the bullets, unopposed, ripped the hallway to pieces. They pressed their backs tight against the hard, slick metallic wall for cover as the bullets flew by; pelting a plastic, green, plant near them into bits and forcing Carson turned his face away as the fragments leapt into his eyes.

Carson reached a hand behind his head and lifted his rifle from the equipment box fixed firmly on his back. His hand clasping the stock steadily as his fingers molded expertly into place and secured it properly in his grasp, while his other hand rose to wrap around the barrel. With his face still turned from the door, his eyes met with Lone's, who was leaned against the wall at his side with her revolver firmly in hand.

The loud shots seemed to echo in the confines of the metal elevator car, making them nearly thunderous, while the sharp scent of gunpowder filled Lone's nostrils and the world around her.

Their eyes were locked together in an intensity and urgency. _'When they stop, you run. Go get Benny.' _Carson mouthed slowly, molding and emphasize each word with his lips; the sound around them making it too loud to speak. His eyes stared hard and serious into hers.

She gazed back with a matched intensity and her eyes narrowed for a moment with uncertainty as her own mind ran through the meaning; but as her thoughts wrapped around the idea and finally agreed, she tipped her head in a nod.

Suddenly, the gunfire began to slow and then the anticipated pause of reloading quieted the hallway and was replaced by the distant sound of clicking and metal against metal as the guards lifted out more clips. Not hesitating a moment, Carson wheeled around the corner and raised his rifle to his eye as the stock pressed into that familiar place in his shoulder. Half concealed by the elevator, he steadied the rifle against the wall and fired back.

The first shot rang out piercingly and resounded through the hall, quickly followed the metallic click of Carson pulling back the bolt and thrusting it back into place, sending a shell flying from the rifle while the guards yelled and dove for cover. Before another shot could be fired, Lone heaved herself from the wall and took off like a shot across the short distance of the hall, aimed directly at the door ahead of her.

Not slowing, she threw her shoulder and full weight into the door, making it sound out in a crack as the lock, part of its frame and hinges was broken from place. It swung open suddenly, crashing hard and loudly against the inside wall and quivering slightly as it hung lazily onto its surviving hinges. Two startled screams sounded with her entrance and Lone impulsively raised her revolver to them.

Her sights landed on a man and a woman curled together on the sofa. The women stared at Lone with startled shock, which quickly morphed into fear her eyes locked on the gun, and leaned further into the man's protective embrace. The man, whose expression held more angry then fearful, set his jaw and stared at Lone in bewildered surprise.

Lone lowered the gun as she realized they weren't part of the battle and dismissing them from her attention. Her eyes moved to glance over the room as she moved briskly to the farthest door.

"What's going on?" The man demanded.

Lone ignored him and raised her pace to a jog as she moved through the bedroom, her eyes quickly locating the door she was looking for. She kicked open the handle-less door, leading into the back alley, and ran down the old, neglected hallway in a blur; the hard soles of her boots echoing across the tile.

Not slowing or bothering to use the handle, she threw her shoulder into the farthest door and it swung open to Benny's workshop. Yes Man's hulking metal form jerked to see her as she burst in and his screen flickered with the signature smiling icon.

His cherry voice started to greet her, "Oh, hi th-"

"Shut up, Yes Man." She bit back, ignoring him as she scanned the room with her revolver's sights.

Finding Benny absent of the area, she jumped through the hole in the wall nimbly and scanned the bedroom carefully. The drawers were upturned and the contents were scattered across the floor, making Lone dread the thought that he'd had already left.

Finding it empty of Benny as well, she lowered her revolver and moved to the open bedroom door. She barely peeked through the doorway before the room exploded into an onslaught of fire, forcing her to recoil from the door and press her back against the wall beside it.

The wooden frame next to her splintered from the rounds as she shielded herself and Benny's voice called over the shots, "Do me a favor and stay dead this time!"

She ducked away as the bullets rained on and waited until she heard the familiar click of an empty chamber to jump from her cover. She rounded the corner at the silence and dashed across the room in a blur as he loaded another clip. Using the short coffee table to spring herself up, she kicked the gun from his hand just as he took aim and landed her Magnum audibly hard across his face, sending him reeling backwards.

He gripped at the couch behind him for support as he staggered back and his hand went into his coat, ignoring the bleeding cut on his cheek and the blood coming from his nose.

"You stupid bitch!" His hand shot out with a long blade tight in his grasp; the fine and sharp metal glinting in the dim lighting, and he lunged forward, slashing at her.

Her body instinctively did whatever it meant to avoid the knife and her legs carried her backwards, barely managing to dodge the first swing, but he kept on slashing at her like a fury, leaving her to only stumble back and try to evade it. She was just inches from dodging it when the edge of his blade suddenly caught her along her shoulder and ran quick but deeply across her chest.

She gasped at the sudden burst of stinging pain and he drew back his arm for another fierce swing, but the move left him open and she didn't waste time to think as she fired from the hip and sent a viciously powerful shot into his leg.

All attacks or plans of defense burst away as a new definition of pain exploded in Benny's body. His swing faltered and Lone lunged at him, grabbing his armed hand and sending a knee to his groin as she twisted the knife from his grip and slammed the butt of her revolver into his face again.

His mouth fell agape as the pain in his leg rapidly intensified, mixed with the daze in his head and the throbbing of his face, and he didn't try to catch himself as his stature failed him and he collapsed backwards. Lone rushed him before he could crumple and slammed the full force of her body against him, driving him against the wall as she pressed the cold, hard, steel barrel of her revolver deep into the flesh under his chin.

"I warned you, Benny, I told you not to screw me over. Now there's no where to run, you son-of-a-bitch." She hissed, "Give me my Goddamn package, before I send a round into yours."

His ashen face paled even further and his gaping mouth struggled for words. Seconds passed as though they were hours before he spoke; his normally smooth voice sounding much weaker, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, baby doll! There's that temper again. No need to get aggressive-like."

He bit back the burning pain that slowly shifted from numb to a searing, and expanded through his thigh and up his leg like a spider web.

"You have no idea how aggressive I can be." Lone growled.

She let her free hand take ahold of his tie and wrap the soft fabric tightly around it, before tugging at it carefully, drawing him closer to her while pressing the barrel of her gun deeper into his skin. He tipped his head back slightly, unconsciously trying to avoid the gun.

She moved her face closer to him and looked square into his eyes. "_Give it to me_."

"I can't!" The first real hint of desperation flooded into his voice, "Baby, I'm offering you a fortune here; you'd be stupid to turn it down. We could be partners! A regular Bonnie and Clyde, you dig?" He forced on a pained grin.

She yanked hard on his tie and pulled him from the wall in a swift movement, using the full forced of her shoulder to slam his face bone-crackingly hard into the bar beside them, before slamming him hard back against the wall.

"You fucking bitch!" His words were cut short as she placed the cold steel barrel under his chin again. Blood trickled, or rather flowed, from his shattered nose and was beginning to trail over his lips.

She stared into his eyes intensely, "Unless you want me to act out every excruciating and hideous form of torture that I've thought of in these weeks I've been hunting you, give - me - the - Chip," Her voice low, murderous, "_Now_."

Benny swallowed hard, "Alright, babydoll, alright." He reached a hesitant hand into his breast pocket and lifted out the Platinum Chip. "You should have someone shrink your head. See about all those anger issues."

Her eyes moved from his and locked on the Chip. She gazed carefully at it before hesitantly releasing his tie - silently wondering how everything had come to revolve around something so insignificant looking - and took it from his hand.

"There, we're even now," A little more strength coming to his voice, "so I'm just going to step out on our little shindig..."

She turned the Chip over in her fingers, feeling the small grooves as her eyes carefully examined the metallic object, warmed by Benny's body, before she drew her eyes back to him. He stared back, more of his former confidence gleaming in his eyes, but she still caught a glint of uncertainty… a hopefulness.

Guardedly, she slipped it into her pocket; still keeping her revolver poised on him. "Not quite." She said coldly, "I still owe you a bullet."

"Now just hold on a minute! I know I've been bad, but it all worked out didn't it?" His voice was urgent, but his expression held an anxious, friendly look, "You came out on top. You have the Chip, you're in on the plan - we can just-"

His words rolled meaninglessly over Lone and she slowly tightened her finger around the trigger.

"Daddy!"

In chorus, both their eyes darted to the small voice standing in the bedroom doorway and landed on a little girl.

Lone's heart dropped and her face went blank.

She looked just like a perfect babydoll; short, dark hair, light porcelain skin, wearing a nicely tailored, little pink dress. There was an indescribable look of confusion and horror spread across her small features.

Lone's eyes stayed locked on the little girl as Benny's expression softening into an urgent calm, matching his voice, "Go. Get out of here! Now!"

At Benny's shouts, the girl turned in a doubting tentativeness and disappeared into the other room.

Lone stared after her as her mind wheeled, but it didn't take long for the anger to return and she took a harsh grip on his shirt again, pushing him into the wall. "Who's she?" Lone demanded harshly.

"Just some runt, how am I supposed to know?" Benny bit back, his voice nearly as harsh.

"She called you _daddy_." She seethed.

"I have full grown women that call me daddy, what's it to you?"

Using his shirt as leverage, Lone hauled his head forward and slammed it back into wall, yelling with a sudden fury, "Don't lie to me! You're her father!"

"Look, she's not part of this, sugar. Let's keep this civil." He said with faintly gathered composure.

She slammed his head into the wall again and bellowed at him through clenched teeth, "You're a goddamn father! You have a little girl! Why are you out doing stupid shit when you have a kid! You're not supposed to endanger yourself! You're a father!"

Somehow, Benny managed to keep his voice even, "Baby, the only one endangering me right now is you."

Lone stilled. Her eyes stared hard into his, but a slight spark of indecision flickered. And she wasn't sure.

Could she really kill him now? Could she really put a bullet in his head with his daughter in the very other room? Could she bring herself to do it?

But, did the girl really need a father like this? Would the girl be better off without him?

Lone's whole being bubbled with rage; a rage that was just there without warning, slowly increasing and growing until she was nearly trembling. Her teeth clenched in an attempt to control herself and her hands tightened in a death grip on Benny's coat, her nails digging through the fabric and into his flesh.

Her eyes stayed hard and steady into his, but slowly, they shifted from emerald green to a near dark obsidian as rage slowly grew. A calm fear sunk into Benny's eyes.

Lone was so angry… but why?

A sudden murderous rage was overwhelming her and she wasn't sure why. Suddenly, didn't feel right; it suddenly wasn't about revenge for shooting her in the head, or for stealing her package, or for making her trek across the Wasteland - nearly dying - to find him. Suddenly she was uncontrollably furious and she didn't know why…

And it was scaring her.

But then it started to make sense. The simple righteous vengeance she had started out on weeks ago had slowly developed into more. Every time she was denied, it made her angry. Every time she was hurt, it made her angry. Every ounce of sleep she lost, every meal she missed, anything that went wrong, made her angry. But she didn't act on it. She just shoved it down inside of her and pushed on. That anger slowly boiled and churned until it wasn't just vengeance, but something else.

And now, she was faced with something that would get in the way of everything she had worked for, everything she had planned, everything she had spent the last weeks doing. She needed a release; a release for all of the anger, the frustration, the pain. Benny had become her release and now she was going to be denied it. And without even knowing it, it made her murderously angry.

And that scared her. It scared her entirely sober.

Then suddenly, after everything, she was unsure. Unsure of what she was doing. What if she had painted this need for revenge in her mind, and was acting outlandishly? What if he didn't deserve to die?

He had shot her. Killed her, nearly. That was more than enough reason.

But was it?

It's not as if he was some rabid killer loose. He shot her for a reason. She had shot people just because fate put them in the wrong place; just because they signed up with the wrong people; because she needed something - something essential - and they were in the way.

But no… that was different.

Benny had waited for her to come through Goodsprings and then shot her. Not because it was crucial to his survival, but because it would help him to the top, it would make his life safer - his _daughter's_ life safer? He needed the Chip, and she would be a loose end to unravel everything he planned.

Benny was telling the truth in Goodsprings; it wasn't personal, it was just good business. He was just watching his own back.

But it was different. Right?

Lone swallowed hard and breathed out a long, shallow breath. "I have every right to kill you right now." She seethed, "You shot me, stabbed me and had your guards declare open season on me. No one could _possibly_ find me at fault if I shoot you _right_ - _now_."

Benny stared back at her, his voice at a near whisper, but still held surprisingly even, "Then what are you waiting for?"

There was a long pause, an eternity that seemed to pass while Lone's eyes stayed squarely locked on Benny's; unmoving, unfaltering and unfeeling. The distant echo of gunfire still consuming the hall.

Her hand slowly unclenched from Benny's coat, her fingers cracking as they released their hold and her hand slowly moved down to her leg, reached into her pocket and digging around for a moment. His eyes stayed locked with hers, showing anticipation, but a strange calm to them - as though he was at peace with a fate he knew was decided.

Her fingers wrapped around a long and intimidating large object, lifting it from her pocket and stabbing it deep into his thigh in one fluid thrust. He grunted at the small sting, but didn't move. She pressed down on the syringe and let the fluid flow into him, before pulling out the needle and carelessly tossing the Stimpak on the bar table beside them.

"This'll keep you from bleeding out." Her voice still cold, "You'll survive until you get to a doctor - one far away from here." Lone pulled her revolver from the place it was imprinting under his chin and stepped back. "Take your daughter... and go."

Her eyes pulled away from those deep brown ones; eyes that were imprinted deeply in her mind, that met with hers and shot her without hesitation; and she turned to leave.

Her feet only made it a few steps, not noticing Benny move behind her and lift a large glass bottle from the counter. As the glass scrapped against the bar, it made a sound that her ears caught and took a moment identify. She turned with curiosity and complete unsuspecting just in time to be met with the sizable, solid wine bottle across her face.

The thick bottle broke into green glass fragments against her face and she reeled back from the impact; her eyes suddenly blinded from the burning liquid and her mind spinning and going blank. A fist followed and landed hard across her cheek, knocking her off her balance even further and making her stumble into a table, knocking all its contents loudly onto the plush and blood stained carpet.

Her eyes burning furiously and watered as she tried to blink them clear and her heart throbbed loudly in her head and her ears. Her hand took hold of the lamp as she grasped blindly to gain her footing, and she flung it at the blur of Benny.

Nearly unable to move with his wounded leg, the lamp caught just the edge of his shoulder and distracted him as Lone caught her balance and lunged forward, sending her foot directly in his bullet wound, making him howl with unthinkable pain. She drove her fist into his solerplex and pressed her revolver under his chin as they fell back against the bar.

"No - Wait!" A resounding _boom_ silenced his pleas and his brain matter being spread across the wall behind him assured her that he wouldn't be coming back from this.

Letting his body slump onto the floor, she wiped the mix of alcohol and blood from her eyes with the back of her hand and leaned against the wall, muttering every curse word she ever heard as her ears throbbed and rang.

This was so much simpler two minutes ago. Everything had gone to hell.

* * *

><p><strong>DISCLAIMER: I own everything except the characters and story-lines found in the Fallout universe.<strong>

**A/N:My goodness! I cut this three times and it kept getting bigger! I guess you guys deserving it, seeing as how I was gone for so long. I was going to cut it just as his daughter arrived or just as Lone turn to leave Benny, but then I decided I shouldn't be so evil. :)**

**So, yeah, curveball. :) I know I said I'd write the Carson back-story first, but my inspiration vetoed, so I'll be working on that next… hopefully.  
><strong>**  
>If you're interested in getting a glimpse of Lone's life back in the Capital Wasteland, go check out my other story, 'Through The Fire And The Flames'. It's set not long after she emerged from Vault 101, so she's not as combat experienced, but after reading how she kicked Benny's ass, it might be interesting to see how far she's come.<strong>


	12. Author's Note

Hi there, here's a quick author's note.

I have been in the process of re-writing/editing earlier chapters, applying the skills and knowledge I've gained over the few months I've been working on this and other stories. So you may want to scan over chapters; 2, 3, 7, 8 and 9. Chapter 2 & Chapter 3 have been changed the most, and Chapter 8 has some extra dialogue that you may want to see.

I'm working on a Carson back-story, so that'll be up before Chapter 12.

Thanks for reading, and I'm sorry for the inconvenience.


	13. Bless The Beasts And The Children

Lone's breath was heavy and ragged, quivering slightly from the pure adrenaline that coursed near chokingly thick through her veins and pounded fiercely in her heart. Her limps felt suddenly weak and her legs threatened to collapse from beneath her as her hands trembled slightly, still holding tightly to the grip of her Magnum from sheer determination.

She leaned heavily against the wall behind her for support, trying to ignore the intense pain her back delivered to her at the pressure. The heat and slick feeling against the skin of her back told her that her wounds were weeping with her high heart rate and the strenuous movements. But the knowledge seemed distant and unimportant at the moment.

Fresh, hot blood trickled down her arms from both the cut along her shoulder, the one along her chest and the blood that had showered her when that single .44 round ended Benny. The slick and darkly colored blood dripped from her fingertips, making her hold on her gun even more faltering, but she tightened her grip on it. Instinct unwilling for her to abandon her constant protector. Will alone kept her hands from trembling with adrenaline and kept her feet steady.

She blinked hard against the burning wine that seeped into her eyes, forcing them to focus through the murky haze the alcohol had caused. Blinking her vision clear, her emerald eyes hung half lidded as they slowly moved over the scene around her.

The place was chaos. A blood bath.

She was no stranger to blood and as much as she would like to deny or forget it, she had witnessed a massacre before.

_But this is different_, she had to remind herself.

This was one man. One man who had made his decision despite all the opportunities she had given him. She had to remind herself that. She couldn't forget it.

She had let him go; gave him salvation at her own expense - and at the lives of others - so that he could take his innocent daughter and leave. But he rejected it; rejected it entirely. His death was _his_ fault. His daughter was fatherless because of _him_.

Lone had to remember that.

She had to remember that she wasn't as the same as Captain Autumn. She hadn't shot a father in cold blood in front of his daughter. She was nothing like that. No matter how far she ventured into the darkness, no matter what devil she danced with, she would never fall that deep into the black. The Wasteland had hardened her, but she was still that girl. She was still the Vault 101 girl that would always strive to do what she thought was best. She wasn't a monster. The Wasteland hadn't corrupted her.

She needed to remember that. She had to.

Her mind seemed to pound mercilessly with tormenting thoughts and inclinations of barbarism; that she had become a monster. But she shook her head clear of them, forcing down any of the raw emotion that bubbled within her. She couldn't allow past demons to overwhelm her now. This was serious; she had to pull it together.

But that little girl.

"Dear God." Lone whispered in desperation; not sure if it was a prayer or a curse to add to the list she was spewing off in her misery.

She lifted her hand, forcing it to steady as she used the back of it to wipe the remains of the burning liquid, stray shards of green glass and blood from her feverish flesh. Ignoring the crimson blood that coated the hand and stained her features further with the dark liquid.

Her form seemed to plead to be allowed to give up its struggle and shake with the adrenaline, dulling rage and fatigue that threatened to overwhelm her. But she drew in a slow and hard breath, forcing her breathing to stabilize and the pace of her heart to calm. Gathering together her composure and courage.

Her head still hung low from the consuming exhaustion and stray strands of her maroon hair which had come loose from her pony tail during the turmoil shrouded her face.

Just how in the hell was she going to face that little girl?

Suddenly, a faint, near inaudible metallic _click_ caught Lone's ears; breaking her from her internal deliberation. Her head darted up, making her regret the sudden movement as a painful throb pounded in her head. She winced slightly, but her emerald green eyes slowly cleared to full lucidity as her body stilled to listen; dismissing any pain that clouded her thoughts. Lone barely registered the rapid but near silent breaths; only adding to her suspicion. Her eyebrows furrowed with a curious confusion as her attention perked.

Lone's eyes carefully scanned the area around her, moving slowly with a well earned apprehension as she tried to location the source of the sound. A sudden fear jabbed into her chest and made her breath come short as the thought of Benny still being alive flashed in her mind.

Her eyes darted fearfully to the decimated corpse lying limply on the floor beside her. Her eyes focused hard on his form, but found it to be deathly still and entirely silent.

He was dead. There was no doubt in her mind he was dead.

Then what was the sound?

Her gaze scanned the room quickly, confusion morphing to a deep anxiety until they fell on the true origin of the sound. Her face fell in astonishment and her lips parted in a shock.

In the bullet-ridden doorway of the distant bedroom, with a shining silver pistol that dwarfed her hands and looked awkward in contrast to her white-lace-trimmed pink dress, stood the dark haired little girl. Her eyes glimmered with tears and showed consumed in emotion - fearful and uncertain - but her hands held the pistol with a firm, iron grin that caused her fingers to turn white from the pressure. She aimed the handgun with an awkward precision due to the weight of the gun, but the barrel was clearly aimed at Lone.

Lone's mind went entirely blank.

"_Oh shit._" The words rolled unrestrained off Lone tongue before she think of it. She blinked hard and shook her head slightly to force her thoughts to aline; feeling the world around her close down into one single moment. The gunfire sounding distant in the hallway and the pain throbbing in her body being forced away. Lone raised her voice to stretch the distance between them. Her tone becoming soft and consoling, "Oh, honey, no. Put the gun down."

Lone raised her unarmed hand, colored darkly with blood, towards the girl in almost a plea. But the dark haired girl, with ringlets adorning her porcelain face and tears escaping her eyes to drip down her cheeks, seemed unaffected; holding the gun firm in her plump fingers.

Seeing her efforts were ignored, Lone shifted her weight away from the wall warily, leaving a dark red stain smeared across the light paint from the combined injuries of Benny and her. Keeping her eyes vigilantly trained on the girl but an unmistakable kindness and sympathy showing clear in them. Lone took a careful step towards the girl, keeping her hand, armed with her magnum, at her side and her other lifted reassuringly to the girl.

"It's alright." Lone spoke softly, moving slowly towards the girl with each cautious step, "I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" Her eyes displaying a gentle empathy. "Just put the gun down."

The small girl stood silent in the doorway, not swaying in her aim or moving in her place; seeming like a porcelain statue standing firmly in place, but an unmistakable uncertainty showing in her glistening eyes.

A solitary tear raced down the girl's cheek and Lone's already pounding heart throbbed with guilt.

Slowly, Lone drew closer and closer, careful to avoid the clutter of broken objects strewn across the floor during Benny's and her struggle. She kept her eyes entirely centered on the girl before her. With each step, Lone's mind ran through ideas of how to get the gun away from the girl as well as how to not startle the girl into firing, but came up with no simple avenue.

This was different then when she had planned disarming Benny. So different. This was a little, innocent little girl who hadn't done anything. Lone didn't want to hurt her. But she couldn't allow the girl to fire that gun either.

Lone's body seemed pulsing with life as the remaining adrenaline rose to full capacity. Also feeling nearly dull because her body didn't sting with the anticipation of the bullet, as she often did. Any moment the girl could pull the trigger and by the look of the gun, it was a fairly large caliber. But it didn't seem to matter at the moment.

Each precise step in her stained boots brought Lone nearer, until she was only feet away from the girl. With Lone standing to her full height, the little girl's aim landed directly at her abdomen. The girl's eyes looked timidly up to Lone.

Lone cooed to her again, "You're okay, sweetheart, I'm not going to hurt you. You don't need the gun, alright?" Lone assured her, honest compassion radiating from her voice, "You can give it to me."

Lone's outstretched arm moved closer to the girl and her hand reached cautiously for the gun, keeping her eyes firmly locked with her. The girl's chocolate eyes darted anxiously between Lone's hand and the gun. Just as Lone's fingertips were about to touch the silver barrel of the pistol, the girl's face contorting in despair and panic before letting out a high pitched, shrilled scream; sharply pulling the trigger.

The small caliber shot cracked piercingly into the confines of the damaged room without warning and Lone's hand instinctively shot out, grabbing firmly onto the cold metal of the barrel as her body impulsively dodged away from the shot. Lone's stomach stung numbly with a pain she wasn't yet sure of as she pulled hard on the pistol, yanking it from the small hands of the girl with little resistance.

A sharp scream erupted from the girl again as she abandoned all struggle and darted away from Lone, disappearing into the bedroom again.

Lone straightened herself up as her hand unconsciously went to her stomach, pressing against the brown leather that stood as a barrier for her between danger and her sensitive flesh. She expected to find a burst of pain blossoming forth but as she pulled her hand away to observe the damage, she found it free from blood or any marks.

She cast a fleeting glance behind her to see a small hole imprinted in the far wall where the bullet had traveled as it narrowly missed her.

Praying a silent thanks, Lone guided her revolver to its holster on her side and looked after where the girl had disappeared. Dread forming in her stomach where the bullet had just missed. She glanced down to her palm where the cold metal of the silver pistol rested. Twisting it in her grip, she one-handedly pushed on the safety.

Of course the girl knew how to shoot and where to find a gun. It made perfect sense now that she thought of it. Benny may be a slippery bastard, but he didn't seem like a guy that didn't take precautions. With him running around, engaging in corporate battles and staging executions, he would be stupid to not teach his daughter how to defend herself in the event of her being placed in danger. And by the look of the girl, he took good care of her.

Maybe that's why the sickening dread forming in Lone's stomach intensified.

Because she knew he was good to her.

Lone looked away from the gun, simultaneously forcing away her thoughts and trying to focus on the task at hand. She needed to harden herself, because she knew the events proceeding had the prospect to rip out her heart.

She slipped the pistol in the waistband of her pants, securing it so it wouldn't fall from its place before she forced herself to move through the bedroom. She kept her eyes keen, knowing the possibility of the girl finding another weapon and not hesitating this time.

Lone peeked through the door of the bathroom to find it empty, just as she did when she glanced under the bed for sight of the girl. Deciding the room was absent of her, Lone moved through the door to Benny's secret office, which still hung ajar.

The lights of the neglected room were dimmed in severe contrast to the bedroom and Lone paused in front of the large hole in the wall to survey the area, searching for the bright pink of the girl's dress. Her eyes landed on her target, nearly concealed behind the hulking form of Yes Man, whose screen glowed in the soft lighting. The little girl sat hiding behind the large wheel of the Securitron, crying miserably.

"There, there." Yes Man's unchanging cherry voice chimed to the girl, "This is my first shooting too! It's kind of exciting, but it's hard to see anything all the way back here. I'm sure Benny will tell you _all_ about it later. He likes telling stories. Well, not to me. But that's okay. _You_ can tell me afterwards!"

Lone gripped the chipping wall for balance as she stepped through the hole; the dull sound of her boots connecting with the worn floor announcing her presence. The girl's eyes darted to Lone as she appeared in the room and at the sight of her, the girl whined sharply and shielded her face behind Yes Man.

"Oh," Yes man acknowledged as he swiveled around on his wheel to face Lone, "If you're here then that means that Benny is probably dead. I guess he won't be story-telling after all. That's kind of disappointing. But you can't stop progress! So we can go on with the plan, now that you have the Chip."

Lone didn't even spare a glance to the Securitron, ignoring him entirely as her eyes fixed on the girl. "No, no. I'm not going to hurt you." Lone insisted against the girl's cries; drawing closer to her and feeling a painful throb in her chest as she watched Benny's daughter cower against Yes Man in fright.

"It's okay," Yes Man encouraged, attempting to lean to the side to speak to the girl, but his large frame making it difficult, "Judging by the background check, if Courier Six wanted to hurt you, she'd have her gun drawn. So you're probably going to be okay."

Lone drew nearer to the girl, measured in her movements in hopes of not frightening her. Desperate to explain everything to her and make her understand, but shying away from the knowledge that she never could. When the girl glanced timidly out from behind Yes Man, her eyes locked with Lone closing the distance between them and screamed piercingly, dissolving into harsh sobs as she hid her face against the metal structure of Yes Man.

"Shh…" Lone tried to sooth her, crouching to the ground and extending her hand comfortingly to her, "It's okay, you're safe. No one's going to hurt you."

The whimpers that filled Lone's attention were slightly disturbed from her focus as her ears caught dull footsteps growing in audibility behind her. She turned sharply, jumping to her full height and firing stance as she drew her Magnum from its holster in an instant. The little girl shrieked and bawled harder at the sharp movements and sight of the gun, but Lone's position didn't sway as she lined her sights with the intruder behind her.

Recognition sparked as her eyes fell on the form of Carson.

He raised his hands defensively, stopping in his tracks "Whoa, easy!" He exhorted, "It's me."

She dropped her aim away from him quickly, lowering the revolver to her side before holstering it. Carson let his hands drop to his sides as he glanced into the room; his face awash with alarm and confusion at the sounds that echoed from the room.

Stepping through the hole into the little room, his eyes looked to the little girl cowering behind the massive robot. His eyebrows furrowed as expression softened into a distressed puzzlement. His expression not changing, he looked expectantly to Lone for answers.

"What happened?" Carson asked; his tone full of concern and misunderstanding. "Who is she?"

Lone glanced reluctantly back to the girl; a grimace consuming her expression. "She's Benny's."

"You mean…"

She nodded gravely.

"Whoa…" Carson remarked, seeming taken aback, "Shit just got real."

Lone took in a heavy breath. Letting it out slow through her nostrils in an aspirated sigh, she nodding seriously, "Yeah."

Yes Man's perpetual jolly tone observed, "I was pretty sure that you would confront Benny after what I told you, and likely kill him because of that incident in Goodsprings, but I didn't realize that your drive for revenge would take such a sadistic turn."

The weight of the moment coupled with the anxiety that was quickly consuming her made Lone ignore the snide comment, while the light adrenaline and still lingering rage urged her to bash his face plate in.

She simply raised her eyes slowly to reveal a dark, murderous glare; fighting down the urge to draw her revolver and send a shot into his head.

Yes Man's smiling screen didn't falter, but he didn't speak.

"Hey. Lone."

Lone glanced over to Carson to see him tip his head towards the hole in the wall, silently asking her to step out with him. Agreement showing in her eyes, Carson turned to lead the way out of the room with her following behind.

Carson stopped in the bedroom once they were a good distance from the secret office. He turned to face her, "So, we-" He stopped suddenly. His eyes focused intently on her, darting over her features as he seemed to study her with new revelation in the brighter lights of the bedroom. His gaze moved carefully over her face, then quickly traveled the length of her in a quick glance before returning his eyes to hers. His eyebrows perking in admiration, he stated bluntly, "You got fucked up."

Lone paused. Her countenance speaking tedium, before she relented to his logic, shrugging. "Yeah."

"Is that all because of Benny?"

"Some of it _is_ Benny."

Carson grimaced with barely concealed disgust. He looked hard at her face once again, seeming to study her closely. "I'm going to say... Wine bottle... 32 ounce...?"

"All I know is that it was hard." She replied, "And that the contents sting when they're in my eyes."

"I bet. You're going to feel that for a long time." Carson shook his head as he looked her over again, "Wow. I didn't think Checkers was that badass."

Lone shrugged. "There were a couple of variables to include."

"How could he get that close?"

"I wasn't paying full attention; wasn't expecting it; didn't turn around fast enough..." She explained wearily, "Variables"

"Ah." Carson nodded towards the office, "So, was _she_ one of the variables?"

"She was the main one. Unfortunately."

"So…" He began, seeming uncertain as to how to word it, "Did you know about her when you shot Benny?"

"Technically…" Lone paused regretfully, "Yes. But I didn't want to. That's why I gave him the Stimpak and told him to take her and run… but he wouldn-"

"Wait, what? Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up a second." He held up his hand to stop her as his expression became utterly quizzical. "You were going to let him _go_?" Carson demanded incredulously. "After everything, you were going to let him walk out?"

"I wasn't going to at first, but..." Lone tipped her head guiltily; her tone sounding defensive, but unsure. "I was trying to do the right thing."

"I'm trying to see how it's the right thing, Lone, I really am." Carson's voice deepened with impatience.

His sudden change in tone caught Lone off guard, but she didn't wane in her argument. "The girl walked in. The look in her eyes when she saw me hold a gun to her dad's head..." Lone's lips moved silently as she tried to form the words, but she couldn't find any to convey the moment, "I couldn't just make her an orphan."

"Benny is - or was - a sick cookie, he wouldn't deserv-"

"Maybe not. Benny wasn't of the greatest moral caliber, but I don't think he was a pedophile or- or abusive. He was a father." Her voice suddenly hardened with force and conviction, "And she didn't deserve to have her father taken away, let alone killed in the very next room. That's the only reason I didn't shoot him to begin with. Only because of her."

Carson sighed, his eyes looking absently to the side as if uncertain before he shook his head and looking back to her. "And so, guessing from the crime scene, I'm going to say that he played on your sense of mercy and tried to finish the job. So you made sure history didn't repeat itself?"

"Precisely." Lone concurred. "And then she shows up with a gun and I probably traumatized her even more trying to get it away from her, an-"

"Wait, wait, wait, I need to stop you again. She had a _gun_?" Carson questioned disbelievingly, "Whoa, I'm starting to like this girl."

Lone found herself unwilling to go further into an explanation, so she continued, "Now I have no idea what to do. This just became so _damn_ complicated!" She seethed, running her fingers through her loose and blood stained hair. "What am I going to do?"

"Well…" He glanced towards the other room, "Looks like you just adopted."

"What?" Lone's eyes darted to his, widened in sudden alarm, "I - no, I can't take her."

"Why not?"

"Are you kidding me? Look at her, she's terrified of me! I can't even look at her without sending her into an emotional meltdown." Lone argued fervently, "An- And I can't have a kid! I don't know how to take care of one and what would I do with her? I can't take her out on a scavenging hunt; I don't have a real house or home; and I can't have her out in a firefight!"

Hell, Lone couldn't even convince the kids at Little Lamplight to let her through and had to add another day to her travels so she could make her way clear to Paradise Falls. How could she ever raise a child?

"Well, she already knows how to shoot. Just get her some cool armor - maybe a cape - and make her your little sidekick."

"Carson, don't joke." Lone scolded seriously, "Please, not now. It's not funny."

"Okay, okay." Carson raised his hand apologetically, conceding, "It's just getting heavy in here; I'm trying to lighten the mood. Yeah, her dad is dead, but that's his fault. It's over. Now we have to figure out what to do with her. We can't just leave her here."

"I know, I know." Lone thought for a moment, racking her brain for a solution that would fix all of this.

There had to be a solution; there always was. Someone she could pay, a favor she could do, a person she could end. She needed an answer, but she couldn't find one that would work.

She dropped her head despairingly and let a long sigh escape her lips.

"This is really affecting you, isn't it?" Carson asked softly, true concern showing in his voice.

"Of course it is!" Lone exclaimed, raising her head suddenly, "How could it not?"

"Listen, I'm just as heartbroken to see that little girl falling to pieces in there too, but you're not dealing with it like Benny brought it on himself." Carson reasoned.

A whimper from the other room caused Lone to cringe, forcing her to fight down the memories that tried to invade her mind.

Tired of all the variables, she gave up hopes of hiding it.

"Damn it, I feel like such a monster." Lone admitted. "I mean, coming in, kicking Benny's ass - that's fine! He deserved it; he made his choice. Kill the guards - they knew what they signed up for. But this little girl… she didn't get a choice in this. She's has nothing to do with this, yet she's the one that's been the most deeply effected."

"Hey, hey, don't get angst-y on me." Carson chided jokingly, reaching out to touch his masculine fingers against her arm comfortingly, "You're right, this went all to hell and that poor child is suffering the most, but the blame isn't yours. This was Benny's fault, so place it on his corpse where it belongs."

"Yeah, I guess." Lone nodded half heartedly, "But the aftermath is on me."

"Us, partner. You didn't ditch me with the Cazadors, I didn't ditch you with the Deathclaws and neither of us are ditching now." Carson said, smiling.

Lone looked up Carson hopefully, meeting his compassionate eyes. A grateful smile threatening to spread over her countenance.

She needed to pull it together. She needed to get it together and not let the situation affect her.

But that son-of-a-bitch. Benny just skipped out and died, not having to deal with the repercussions of everything. Lifeless on the floor in the other room, he didn't have to contend with the disaster. As much as she hated to admit it, she regretted killing him. Whether he brought it on himself or not was beside the point, that silver tongued bastard had left his daughter there in a puddle of tears.

Lone regretted shooting him, whether it was his fault or not.

_Stop, just stop. _She scolded herself.

She breathed in deep, letting the breath set in her lungs before releasing it slowly, pulling together her composure which had faltered temporarily.

"Alright, we need a plan." She stated; her tone holding firm in decision. "She clearly can't come with us for various reasons, so we need to find someone that knew her, or at least Benny, that would be willing to take her." She paused in thought. A thought dawned on her, "What about Swank? He knew Benny. He might take her."

Carson tipped his head thoughtfully, "Eh... Swank's still not exactly the perfect father figure, but he's probably better then Benny. He might do it."

"He better." Lone said, almost threateningly. "Hopefully we're able to salvage this catastrophe."

Carson nodded, "Alright, so we'd have to call him on the intercom since the commotion downstairs coupled with your appearance wouldn't add up to anything pleasant."

"Alright, good plan." Lone nodded, but slowly she added, "So… Maybe you should go and try to talk to her? The girl. I mean, she can't even look at me, but she doesn't know you. Maybe you can calm her down? I'm not sure if you could ever explain the situation to her, but maybe just make her stop crying? Because that's- that's seriously bothering me." Lone confessed, forcing her eyes to look away from the doorway and try to refocus on something else. Her mind revolting on her every time that whimper met her ears.

Paradise Falls flashed vividly at the sound. The crying, the screaming. One damn slaver that didn't value his own life enough to stay quiet. Bullets, rockets and fire. The one little kid that didn't make it out. The dead look in his eyes flashed in her mind every time she heard the little girl in the other room whimper.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right." Carson relented, bringing up his hand to rub along the base of his neck. "Yes Man isn't going to be much help, so I guess I'll have to. Do you have some sort of toy?"

"What?"

"Something shiny or something she'd like to play with. Like a peace offering, you know?"

"Um," Lone paused, her eyes distantly scanning the bedroom while her hands patting down her pockets. "No, not unless .44 rounds count as something shiny."

Carson gave a short chuckle, almost bitterly. "Yeah, no."

"So, I'll go get Swank on the intercom," Lone repeated, "and you talk to the girl."

"Alright." Carson complied, nodding as he moved past Lone and towards the hole in the wall.

Lone looked after him as he stepped through the wall, hearing his distant voice speak softly to the girl. "Hey munchkin, you okay?" Lone heard a frightful gasp, "No, no, you're fine." Carson soothed, "I'm not going to bother you; I'm one of the good guys. Good-est guy around."

A faint, relieved smile spread unrepressed over Lone's lips. She turned to walk to the living room where the intercom was placed, hoping to God that there would be a way to fix this. 

* * *

><p><strong>DISCLAIMER: I own everything except the characters and story-lines found in the Fallout universe.<strong>

**A/N: The chapter title is 'Bless The Beasts And The Children', by The Carpenters **

**At long last, I have returned! It's been what, four months? Wow, I really never planned to be gone from this that long. I temporarily put this on pause because of some art trades, then I needed to write the finale for another fanfiction I was co-writing, then I was doing some writing challenges, then I started my novel and that took most my time. **

**But I had a few people asking for another chapter (which really means a lot to me, so don't think that I was ignoring you), and I was reading through this fanfiction the other day and it got me rolling. And I figured that with 50,000 plus words on my novel, that I could take a break. :D**

**So here it is. Extra long because I could see anything I could cut out and put in the next chapter without losing momentum, as well as I figured after four months, I could make it longer to reward your guys' patience. I really haven't even looked at it much since I posted Chapter 11, so although it took me two days to finish it up, it took a lot of motivation.**

**And I hope it doesn't seem too rushed, but I really couldn't think of much else to say. But, it's here and I hope I've made it enjoyable.**

**Reviews would be dearly appreciated. :D**


	14. When All Is Said And Done

"Let me get one thing straight." Lone paused, lifting her hand to stop his words as she tried to force down the renewed rage rising inside her. Her emerald gaze bordered a murderous glare and the thin trail of blood trickling down the curve of her face only adding to her intimidating stature. "You _knew_ about her?"

"Hey-hey, don't be putting words in my mouth." Swank defended, "I knew Benny had a kid, but I hadn't seen the munchkin in a while, I thought he got rid of her or somethin'."

Lone glanced again to the two burly men, dressed in suits, standing further down the decimated hall. Both posed with the signature stance of strength on either side of the elevator doors. Their darkly tinted glasses giving the impression they were staring straightforward and leaving the illusion of privacy, when Lone had no doubt they watched her like a hawk. Swank had brought them with him.

_He's not stupid._ Lone decided. When a killer calls you up to a secluded room, backup is just wise.

And in her current state, they had every reason to be cautious of her. But she was getting real tired of being watched all the time.

Lone knew she would have to be careful. "What do you mean, 'got rid of her'?" She managed in a controlled tone.

"Well, I never thought it was smart having a kid around here. Not too safe in this town, you dig? Told him to pawn her off to that tribe whore a long time ago, but Benny always told me to shut my yap." He shrugged indifferently, but she noticed how his eyes glanced fleetingly to the guards in a gesture he clearly thought was unseen. "He kept her locked up tight here, but last I'd seen her was a month or two ago. He hadn't talked about her much since he left for that little cow town."

_Cow town? _

_Oh. He means Goodsprings_.

Why specifically Goodsprings? That had to mean something. Goodsprings definitely had something to do with her murder - _attempted_ murder. So Benny must have been meaning to protect the girl. Maybe he had kept safe up in a penthouse suite, so she wouldn't be in trouble while he was away on his business trip?

Maybe he thought farther than that? Maybe he knew all the trouble that he would cause in his attempts to overthrow House? Maybe he wanted to get her out of the limelight before the fight started - keep her from being a target?

Made sense enough for Lone.

Swank tipped his head to the side, his eyes seeming cajoling. "Look, baby, you think I'd have set it up this way if I'd known?"

Lone wasn't buying it. "_Frankly_, Swank, I don't know _what_ the hell to think anymore." She bit, still controlling her volume, so the words came out as a growl. "All I _know_ is what I can see at the moment. And do _you_ know what that leaves me with? A scarred little girl, a dead man and a lot more questions than I started out with. Right now, you're the only one with a pulse that can decipher even a _little_ bit of this and you're damn well going to do it."

"Easy, dollface." Swank entreated, lifting up his hands defensively as his expression turned kind, but not quickly enough to mask the nervous smile. "No need to get aggressive-like, 'ight?"

_Benny's normally smooth voice sounding much weaker, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, baby doll! There's that temper again. No need to get aggressive-like."_

It took a lot of willpower to not draw her revolver and press it threateningly to his chin as she had done his former business partner. She had to mind the guards. She didn't want another fight.

"The last man that said that decked me with a wine bottle. So, believe me, I have _every_ reason to be testy and you're going to _deal_ with it. I've had about enough of Vegas and I've only been here a few hours. So let's make this easy on everyone, alright? Since I'm sure you don't want my attention anymore than Benny did." Lone hissed, taking a step closer to emphasize every threat.

"Honey-baby, you-"

"You're going to _take_ the girl, you're going to be _good_ to the girl and you're going to give her everything she needs to get past this." She cut in, not paying any attention to his attempt to interject. "I want no arguments on this. Benny's out of your way and I've been reliably informed that such a thing means you're due for a promotion. With that said, you better see to it that this girl gets what she needs at any cost." Her eyes locked hard with his, not in a glare, but in a calm fury. "And be sure of one thing; you don't know when I might stop by again. If I find out that she's been treated as anything less than a princess, what I have done to Benny will pale in comparison. Understood?"

Her head throbbed at the sudden intensity of the blood rushing though her veins. The wounds of her back and the ones more recently acquired pounding painfully in a matched rhythm. Added into the stress and mental strain of the whole ordeal, she suddenly didn't give a damn who she was talking to and what tone she was using.

Any warnings that she was pushing a little too far were ignored. Any part of her brain that reminded her of the armed guards standing nearby and the considerable injuries she had sustained was pushed away. She had nothing to lose at this point - just like she never did. The anger that wasn't properly released on Benny and the mental anxiety of dealing with the girl made her entirety loose any sense of danger. She wasn't going to take any shit.

"Okay." Swank relented, his voice suddenly somber as his face lost any traces of charm. "I'll handle it. The girl will be in good hands."

"Thank you." She replied curtly. Nodding before turning, although not as sharply at she usually did, she took a step into Benny's suite.

"Hey." Swank called gently, causing Lone paused in her step and turn halfway to him. His words seemed hesitant. "So you're sure Benny's dead?"

Her serious, fatigued expression didn't falter as she held out a hand to the decimated body, bleeding out its contents into the carpet, across the room from her. The corpse was enough of an answer.

"Just… wanted to make sure. Hate to find out a little detail like that by accident. Guess you're right then; that makes me boss. Ring-a-ding."

Nodding, she turned away again, but suddenly paused as the thought occurred to her. Looking back, she inquired, "Which reminds me; about the incident downstairs… I trust you've handled that or will I be shot the second I step out of here?"

"I'm telling you, you didn't make it easy, doll. It'll be hell explaining this to the Securitrons snooping around, but I'll see what I can do." He replied, lifting his hand to rub the back of his neck. "As far as you making a mess with that little O.K. Corral skit, I can't help it if you've earned a target on your back with the locals. Watch yourself, 'ight?"

"Right. What's the story you're selling then?"

"Benny played around with the wrong crowd. It caught up to him and he caught a bullet for it. The truth works pretty good right now, wouldn't you say, sugar?"

"And you won't sell me out?"

"And tell them what? I don't know your name and what kind of description would I give them? 'Looks like someone that could kill me for telling you this'? No point. And it looks like you don't take hits well, so we'll just keep to ourselves, you dig?"

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, unconvinced. "Who says I'm not a loose string, like I was for Benny? No offense, but I don't know you. Who says you won't try to do Benny's job better? Where's my guarantee?"

"Like I said, hon', I don't know what you have going on, but you're one tough broad. I can respect that. You keep to you and I'll keep to me. Trust me, baby doll, I have a little more sense than Benny."

She stared at him long and hard, "You should hope so." Her hard glare didn't move from him as she stepped to the side. Holding her hand out to the bedroom door, she gestured for him to enter as her voice ordered tautly. "Go handle it."

He complied wordlessly, looking to one of the guards and jerking his head sharply, signally him to approach. The guard obeyed and jogged across the hall to his side, following him in as they moved through the living room to the bedroom. Lone's ears caught the muffled gag the bodyguard gave as his eyes dared a glance to Benny.

When they disappearing into the bedroom, Lone stepped back into the suite; sighing deeply. The adrenaline was all but gone at this point, meaning the crash would follow soon. She was so tired already, but the sharp pain in her back kept her eyes from drooping. The loss of adrenaline meant the loss of any natural painkillers, leaving her with her wounds and their all too vocal pain. She was overdue for a Stimpak.

_Did you make the right choice?_

She knew she shouldn't think of it. She shouldn't over-think her choices and just let things go the way they would go. But her mind couldn't stop throwing one thought to the forefront of her mind.

_Was giving him the child really smart? _

She shook her head clear, trying to make her mind blank as she ventured further into the living-room. She ignored the bloodstains on the carpet, the bullet holes in the wall and the pieces furniture, vases and other random decorations that littered the room.

_But what about the girl's mother? Why not find her?_

She tried to focus on the task at hand. Time to scavenge. She'd need some extra ammo for sure and, although she had enough caps to buy some at the moment, she couldn't get frivolous. If some could be found, it'd be smart to collect it.

_What if the mother isn't around?_

Her eyes instantly zeroed in on the large wardrobe placed against the far wall. There had to be something valuable inside, judging by the fineness of its build, and it looked free of any bullet holes. She'd start there.

_But if she left the girl with Benny, what kind of mother is she? _

She crossed the room quickly, grabbing the handles and pulling it open. It wasn't locked and the relatively heavy doors swung out with little effort, allowing her eyes to scan the contents within. She was met only with a rack of hanging clothes. Fancy suits at that, which couldn't be used for much and, by the look of the fabric, wouldn't even sell for much either.

_The girl can't even look at you, how could you ever take her anywhere?_

Ammo, she needed ammo.

_Focus, _She reminded herself.

Her hands reached out, pressing against the fabric of the clothes and feeling down the various materials for anything odd or solid; hoping to find something valuable inside the pockets. She found none. Her scrutiny continued to the wood and over the panels, looking for a drawer or nook that could conceal something. Just as before, she didn't see anything.

_Carson seems to be good with her._

She tried to focus on anything other than her thoughts; something else to take her attention. But even her searching wouldn't suffice. She turned away from the wardrobe, closing the doors and letting her eyes scan over the tables, but with the lamps and vases scattered on the floor, they were left bare.

_But what promise does that hold? Would he agree to take her? To at least handle her on a journey?_

She walked over to the end-tables, opening drawers and pushing around the contents, but all they offered were pens and other useless things. Filled with nothing but scribbled notes for room service and numbers that were meaningless, so she closed the first table's drawer and moved to the second.

_What right do you have to involve him in this more? He's probably going to bolt at the soonest possible chance anyways._

The second proved a better cache as she found two caps hidden under a few random papers. Pocketing them, she searched further and was also rewarded with a small 9mm round for her effort. She had no gun of that caliber, but she never wasted ammo, so they were taken as well.

_If you took the girl, the mother would have no chance of finding her daughter._

Nothing else in the drawers, she pushed shut the third table frustrated, but not just from her lack of luck in the search. Standing, she moved towards the bar where, laid slumped against the front of it and staining the wood a sickly red, was Benny's corpse.

_It doesn't matter._ She scolded herself.

Gazing down on his bloody form, her resolve only seemed to harden.

She had no other options. Right or wrong, it was the only avenue for her at the moment. She wasn't capable of having a child around. She had no choice.

With a deep breathe, she collected her composure and silenced her thoughts. _Get it together. This is life, not the vault. No time for downtime_. She mentally chanted the familiar mantra.

She kneeled down beside Benny, ignoring the massacred head, and grabbing the edge of his checkered jacket. Lifting it up and glancing inside, she reached in when she noticed something large in the inner pocket. She dug only for a minute before lifting out a small bag of caps.

Deciding he had nothing else of value, she let the coat fall flaccidly closed again. Her eyes lingered on his checkered suit for a moment, almost emotionless - her mind finally changing in its thought process.

"Fuck you, Benny. Just fuck you." She said plainly, no remorse in her voice.

She stood, casting him away from her attention as she stepped over beside the couch, noticing Benny's pistol lying discarded on the ground. Crouching down, she reached over and picked up the gun, raising it up to her line of sight to study it. The handle was a pale ivory color with the intricate pattern of the Virgin Maria imprinted into it. Lone found the colors of her dress and her face impressive, as well as the careful engravings into the metal of the barrel.

An elegant weapon.

She turned it over in her hand to find the clip gone from it and noticed it lying not far from her - where he had likely dropped it in a panic to reload. She reached over, taking it and sliding the empty clip back into the gun, placing the safety on.

"Find anything worth while?"

Lone glanced up to see Carson standing in the doorway. "Some caps, a bit of ammo and his gun so far. The bastard's dead anyways, he has no use for it. Besides," She observed, "He didn't hesitate to take my things."

"I'm not judging. Just wondering whether you plan on keeping that gun or not."

She looked down on it, studying it as her mind remembered how the shots fragmented the wood of the door near her head. "Not that high of a caliber, I wouldn't use it. I'll probably just sell it; I think the handle will make it worth quite a bit. Unless you want it?"

"Nope, I think you've earned it. All the spoils are yours."

She slipped the pistol into her belt beside the other, standing to her full height, "You don't want his suit then?"

Carson grimaced, before noticing the borderline smirk on her lips. His eyebrows creasing gently in humor and he mirrored her expression. "Checkers would make me look fat. I don't have the hips for it."

"I don't know, I think it'd help your hair. The black and white is very stylish."

He chuckled. "So what'd you say to Swank? He's being a lot more tender with Bethany than I imagined possible for a guy like him."

Lone hesitated, "Bethany?"

"That's what she said her name is."

Lone couldn't explain why the ache in her chest returned at the knowledge of the girl's name. It cut her a little deeper for reasons unknown. "So I take it you managed to calm her down?"

"As much as I could. She's still really shaken." He stated, "But I'm seriously curious what happened to Swank. He just came in and scooped her up, talking about how 'Uncle Swank's gonna make life all gumdrops.' What'd you do to him? I didn't see a head wound or anything, so it must have been good. I've never seen him anything like that before."

"I just appealed to his fatherly nature."

"Like you appealed to Benny?"

"Give or take. Much more talking, much less gunfire, but he doesn't know when that will reverse. Fear is a great motivator; I think that girl's going to be spoiled rotten."

"She's deserves it." He agreed. "But, yeah, she's a sweet girl. Not much we can do at this point, but I think you scared Swank into a regular Mary Poppins, so she should be okay. It's out of our hands."

"I know." Lone nodded, walking back towards the bar. Careful to step away from Benny as she rounded the table, she asked over her shoulder, "By the way, are you alright?"

"What?"

"Are you alright? As in, have you sustained any injuries? You did half the shooting. Were you hurt?"

"Pfft, you kidding? This badass? No, I'm better at dodging than you." He smiled, "And taking hostages, it seems. I only wounded the guys in the hall. It's pretty easy to take someone's gun when there's a bullet in their arm."

"You have a point."

"But where's the fun in that, right?"

She cast a suspicious look to him, only to find that teasing glimmer in his eyes. Breathing a laugh, she ducked down under the edge of the bar. Her eyes scanned the shelves for anything useful, carefully moving the bottles of alcohol to search behind them. She felt herself half tempted to take a few, but decided against it, not wanting to be there much longer. A few spare bullets and some caps was all she was looking for.

Carson followed her over to the bar, resting his arm on the counter-top casually as she lifted a few unused bullets from the ground. He gazed down on Benny beside him, shaking his head, "That suit..."

She lifted a cap from behind one of the whiskey bottles, looking it over to find no blue star. Just a regular cap. "He really doesn't need it anymore. You sure you don't want it?"

"A blood stained and horribly coordinated suit. Thanks, but I'll pass." He scoffed, "Besides, I couldn't pull off something that dorky. I might as well put on something pink and sparkly; strut around the Strip."

Lone rolled her eyes, "Hey, if it pays the rent. You could charge."

"I think you could pull that off better. I'd certainly pay."

"But then I'd have to shoot myself and I don't want to waste the ammo."

Carson chuckled. Glancing over, he noticed a darkly colored fedora resting on the table, similar to the ones the guards wore. He leaned over and picked it up, slipped it onto his head easily, "But how about this? What do you think? Good look for me?"

Lone glanced up, "You look like the Mysterious Stranger."

"Who?"

"Just this guy I know." She answered, returning her attention back to scavenging, "Kind of a stalker."

"More strange and possibly dangerous people following you?"

"That's about the size of it. Some things never change."

"I'm not sure if you're the most interesting or the most scary person I've ever met."

"Can't I be both?" Standing, she let her eyes scan over the area one last time, surveyed for anything she might have missed. "I don't see anything else. Let's get out of here."

Reaching over and gathering her bag from the countertop, she heaved it over her shoulder; ignoring the ache it brought as it touched her back's wounds. Her hand feeling for the Magnum at her side to assure it was still secured in place, she found it unmoved from its position and she stepped towards the door.

"Um, Lone?" Carson started, causing Lone to pause in her steps and turn to him. "Don't take this personal, but you look like shit. There's no way you're getting out of here looking like that. I know you're pretty clever, but you'll have about twenty Securitrons on you the second you step out onto the Strip looking like you just slaughtered a pig - which you kind of did, but that's not the point."

Lone paused, her eyebrows quirking curiously before she took a few steps backwards to align herself with the small mirror hanging off the wall behind the bar. Glancing at reflection in the glass, she was shocked about just how much blood was on her. The shot that killed Benny, although clean, sprayed her with his blood as his head exploded from the bullet. The crimson liquid died her skin a sickly color and was noticeable even in her dark hair, not to mention the even thicker amounts on her clothes.

"Yeah." She agreed, grimacing in the mirror.

"I'm fairly sure that bathroom still works, unless a stray shot hit it or something. You could wash most of it off there."

She glanced over to the doorway, knowing the girl - Bethany - wasn't far behind it. She didn't like the idea; the possibility of the girl seeing her and becoming hysterical again. Wasn't worth the risk.

Letting her bag slip from her shoulder and rest on the floor near the bar, Lone shook her head. "I'll use one of the other rooms"

Turning, she made her way to the door and stepped out into the hall. She glanced down to the guards - four of them now, one looking younger than the other and not wearing the signature sunglasses she came to associate with their profession.

As her footsteps announced her presence, she noticed the younger guard glance up to her. She saw his face flash with barely concealed revulsion at her appearance - covered in blood - and his tanned skin changed a shade paler. Her eyes only lingered on him for a moment, noticing how the other two straighten a little taller at the sight of her. Tall, intimidating, hands a little closer to their guns.

Smart men.

Lone turned her attention away from him and stepped up to the nearest room door. She knocked on it briskly as her hand ventured into her pocket, feeling around for the master key Swank had given her earlier. She heard no reply.

Lifting out the key, not feeling strong enough to kick in the door and not wanting to ask Carson to, she slipped it into the lock easily. She was silently grateful that her hands no longer trembled with adrenaline - Carson taking the key and doing it himself would only add to the list of things she's put him through. The door unlocked without trouble and she pushed it open, letting it swing from her grip and bump noiselessly into the wall behind it. Proving vacant inside as she leaned in to assess the area, she stepped in with Carson trailing behind her.

She located the bathroom relatively quickly, stepping into the small room and locking her attention on the sink as Carson continued into the living-room. She gripped the knobs, aware of the small amount of blood that smeared onto the clean objects, and turned on the facet. When green muck didn't pour forth, she found herself taken back. The surprises didn't seem to end in New Vegas.

Electricity and a relatively stable society was shock enough to see the in the radiation torn world, but running water? _Clear_ water?

She didn't realize she was staring until she heard something clatter in the other room.

"Didn't break!" Carson called back.

She couldn't help the faint smirk that tugged at her lips as she turned back to the water. Her eyes purposefully avoided the mirror that hung above the sink, not wanting to see her blood covered, tattered self again. She held her hand out under the water, letting the clear liquid run over her fingers.

The water was warm. What a Godsend.

* * *

><p><strong>DISCLAIMER: I own everything except the characters and story-lines found in the Fallout universe.<strong>

**A/N: The chapter title is 'When All Is Said And Done' by Abba. The lyrics kinda, sorta fit this for this is you leave out a few bits. **

**I actually finished this before Thanksgiving, but I just never got around to proofing it before the holiday. I'm lazy, what do you want from me?**

**But here is the 13th chapter, at long last! Other very lengthy fanfics published and 100,000 word novel proves that I haven't been _just_ screwing around this whole time. But I can never stay away from Lone and Carson for long. **

**Believe it or not, this is only half of what I had before. I cut this chapter right down the middle because it was getting massive and I was only 75% done with it. So, I put the other half in the next chapter, meaning it's half done and probably won't be too long before it's uploaded.**

**Don't worry, pretties, it's working its way out of the angst. There will be fluff and funny times ahead, but Lone's internal struggle has to be capitalized on. You don't have your father brutally murdered in front of you, go on to kill a father near his daughter and not have any emotional repercussions. **

**Hope you liked it!**

**I love me my reviews and it's not just because they hold praise. It shows me how many people are actually interested in this story and whether or not I should continue it. Meaning they also cause the updates to come faster. :D Please review.**


	15. Start All Over

Lone blinked hard in an attempt to break the trance she fell into watching the water. A dull ache pressed insistently against her skull at the action, under the skin of her temple, where she was sure a bruise was forming.

Her hand moved further under the water so it washed over her palm, but the thin layer of dark blood staining her skin remained; even as the clear water turned murky running down the drain. Her other hand raised to rub her skin clean and the water ran a dark, filthy color; her skin turning shades lighter as layers of blood and dust disappeared. She watched in dull wonder as her skin changed from the sickly red to a dull brown, then finally turning a light, natural color under the warm water.

The water running from the faucet was so clear. So _clean._ Every sink she could remember since the Vault was stained and grime crusted. Running, at best, with dull green water - which she couldn't entirely trust her Pipboy when it diagnosed it as relatively safe to drink. Only the purified water she paid a high price for had been this clear.

She felt the urge to reserve it. To collect it in her bottles. To drink it until her stomach ached.

_What kind of place is this?_

Intact buildings, working electricity, a semblance of a civilized society was enough to overwhelm her, but somehow that seemed more plausible than this. You can rebuild, you can repair, but how do you salvage the elements of the world? The earth she knew was all but dead.

Project Purity was one thing, but this? They weren't just purifying the water for drinking - hording it in bottles and away from any danger. People were washing with it. With _warm_, _clean_ water.

How long had it been since she had a clean bath? Let alone a warm one? As far as temperature, all she could bring up was the Vault.

Cupping her hand under the warm water, she let it gather in a small puddle before ducking down and splashing it against her face. The warmth of it sank into her skin for one soothing moment before it faded away; replaced by the cool air around her.

Her skin was feverish from exertion, but the heat of the water drew her in as poured from the faucet and ran over her hands. Balmy and consoling. The soft sound of the water against the porcine of the sink and the heat against her skin made her eyelids droop; all of it threatening to mesmerize her again.

She was unwinding too fast, she knew it.

She broke away her stare, eyes darting over the walls and over her shoulder to remind her where she was and why she should hurry. The water was warm and inviting, but she didn't feel welcome here. And although the immediate danger was in a bloody pool in the next room, she still didn't feel safe. The sooner she was gone from this building, the better.

She brought her eyes back to the sink; cupping her hands under the stream again and leaning down to run it over her face. Her fingers pressed against the contours of her face, letting the water soak into her skin again. A sharp sting bit just above her eyebrow, making her flinch and pull her hand away.

Likely one of the particularly deep cuts. The nip was gone just as quickly as it had struck, so she dismissed it and continued with her process. Pooling the water and washing away the blood and the stress. The sting flashed just as intense; sharp, deep and enough to make a small sound of pain escape her lips.

She went against her original intention and looked up to the mirror. Her skin was lighter than before with tainted water dripping off her skin, and the sight of herself seemed strange to her eyes. She leaned in closer, focusing on the particular place of pain in the surprisingly clear glass of the mirror. Then she saw it; small and hidden under the blood before.

She reached up, grasping the small chunk of green glass in between her fingers and tugging gently. It came loose, pulling the skin around the area with it, and she glanced down to the green object on her fingers. Jagged and bloody. She tossed it to the side carelessly and moved on with wash her face; repeating the process twice as more glass was found.

Finally, after the water that swirled down the drain a dark color had dissipated to clear again, she shut it off and took up a nearby towel from its rack. She ignored the dull pricks of the remaining bits of glass she couldn't dig out, and wiped the water from her face.

Lone gave a fleeting look to the mirror again and noticed her clothes were just as incriminating as the blood that stained her hands and face. She glanced down at Carson's jacket, hanging loose on her form, and it was speckled with crimson drops, mingling with the bullet holes and rips. She didn't dare a look at her back, where the dampness told her the bandages had failed to contain the weeping of her wounds.

She felt a twinge of guilt at soiling Carson's prized coat. She'd have to tend to it later. There had to be somewhere in this town that cleaned clothes. _Hell_, with warm, clean water publicly available, anything could be possible.

Shaking her head at the reflection in the mirror, she reminded herself how lucky it was that it wasn't all her blood. If it had been, she wouldn't be conscious.

She slid Carson's coat off her shoulders; relatively easy as it was bigger than her size. But her wounds didn't seem to care for the difference. Her teeth ground together as a tight, deep burn drained down her back. She could feel the deep lacerations rubbing against the bandages, but she focused instead on how the leather of the coat, made smooth by use, felt against her hands as she pulled the sleeves free.

It fell from her form and she folded it neatly on itself. Glancing in the mirror once more, her leather armor remained intact all except for the quick slice across her chest, just below her collarbone. It bled lightly, but seemed to have clotted by this point. It wouldn't take much to have that repaired and the tear wasn't thick. She would just tally up the damage done to the suit and have it fixed all at once.

She stepped over the threshold of the door, glancing into the living area to see Carson standing near the bar. With a whiskey bottle in his hand, his eyes scanned over the label and she leaned against the frame of the door, feeling pain behind her eyes again.

"Could I ask a favor of you?" She spoke up.

He glanced up from the bottle, "Will it involve the same as your last favor?"

Lone didn't have the energy to show any friendly response. "Could you get one of Benny's coats for me? There's some more in his room?" If she was going to leave this casino without causing more trouble for herself, covering the damage seemed like a smart move. And she'd feel more comfortable not looking like a complete wreck. "Preferably one less bold than his current one?"

Carson smiled halfheartedly, "Really? I thought you'd want something really flashy, so you could make a good first impression on the Strip. More than you have shooting up a casino and screwing up the chairman, of course."

She pressed her lips together, shaking her head gently, "I don't want to overwhelm them."

"But don't you love first impressions?"

"Yeah, I can't trust everyone to be as dazzled as you. Believe it or not, not everyone finds being held up at gunpoint _nearly_ as thrilling."

"You're kidding? What do they do all day then?"

"_Live_? Or play cards or whatever it is people do around here."

"That sounds really boring."

"Yeah, well… can't all be as happy-go-lucky as you."

"Why not? It's great."

"To each their own, I guess." She shrugged, smiling lightly. "I'm still not wearing anything like what he's got on right now."

"But just think how cool you'd look if you walked out in _his_ coat. Like carrying your kill, right? I know you offered it to me, but I'd let you borrow it this one time. Despite what happened last time I loaned you a coat." Carson added with a smirk.

Lone's eyes trailed away regretfully, down to the bundle of the coat resting in her arms. "So you noticed that." She screwed her lips together, looking back up, "Don't worry, I'll make sure it gets fixed up. I promise, I'll get it cl-"

"I was just kidding with you, Lone, don't feel bad. I've done worse to it – do you see the holes? Bullet holes, might I point out."

"Yes, but it's yours to do that with. You _loaned_ it to me and that means I should take care of it."

"True, but it's not like you did it on purpose. You're going on like you bathed it in Jet and fed it to Deathclaws. You got in a firefight – it happens. It's happened to me. I've kept an eye on you; you've been careful with it. I'm not upset." His eyebrows quirked and a chuckle jerked his shoulders, "If anything, it looks cooler. Now, if I wear it, it'll look like I've been in something rough and maybe some Fiends will take a hint, huh?"

She gave an appreciative half smile. "I'll still make sure it gets taken care of. Is there a place I could find some soap or Abraxo Cleaner?"

"Vault 13 has a place to clean clothes; you can just drop it over there. And they have rooms for rent, so it might be a good idea to make that our next stop. I don't know about you, but I haven't slept on anything but dirt for way too long. Unless you have other plans?"

"I… I don't know yet. I just want to leave here for now." She hadn't gotten that far in her next move. Get out without more trouble was her plan. She added quickly, "The Tops, I mean. Not New Vegas. I know I still have things to handle here."

"Mr. House for one. I wonder if whatever he wanted to see you about had anything to do with this whole mess?"

She tipped her head, relenting, "Wouldn't surprise me."

Carson nodded absently. "Let's blow this joint then. I'll get you another coat – hold the checkers."

She smiled weakly, "Thanks."

A few quick, easy strides and he was gone from the room into the hall. Lone let her head rest against the frame of the door, not allowing her eyes to shut for moment even as they pled to. Soothing rest was painfully distant, but not too far, and she longed for it. But not here.

When her eyes drooped once, Lone pulled away from the frame. She needed to keep moving or she'd have to confront just how worn out she was. Getting her bag was a start, but it was located in Benny's suite.

_The faster we're out, the better._

Her legs were still steady under her and didn't waver as she navigated through the simple decorations of the suite and followed after Carson. She gave a quick glance down the hall to where the guards would be standing, but found them absent from their post. She slowed her pace, eyes lingering after where they should have been and then down the other half of the hall to find it equally vacant. Curious.

It wasn't important though; not as important as her leaving this casino and all of the troubles it contained. She entered Benny's suite and found it deathly silent, all but for the distant music of the radio in the overhead speakers of the hall. Distant, cheery, and so out of place but somehow proper. The Tops went on, even if the head chairman lay in a puddle on its floor.

Her mind drew a conclusion as she listened for the sound of voices. Swank must have left with his guards and taken the girl. The guards were unlikely to take off without him and Swank didn't seem like the kind to send away his only protection. He was a good sized man with nice set shoulders, but he also had a woman with a .44 and blood on her hands nearby.

He must have taken them.

She crossed the blood stained carpeting with her destination being the far side of the room. She paid no attention to the rest of the living area and certainly none to Benny lying nearby as she reached for her bag. It rested against the edge of the bar the way she left it.

Lone pulled it open by a barely attached zipper to reveal the contents strewn within. Shuffling through the uncoordinated collect of rounds, food, trinkets and a long list of other assortments, she created a small space. The bundle of Carson's carefully folded jacket was placed into the pack and it zipped closed in one precise pull.

The sound of footsteps made her lift her head. Carson appeared from the bedroom door with a plain black coat in his hand and tossed it to her in a quick motion. She caught it midair, not paying much attention to the sting at her sudden movement.

"Is the girl gone?" Lone raised the question, even if she could guess the answer.

"Yeah, they took her out of here while you were cleaning up. Swank headed right for the elevator, holding the girl with the big guys on both sides of him. It wasn't long before you came out"

Lone wasn't sure if she should ask, but she spoke the words anyways, "Did she seem okay?"

"She had her head tucked against Swank, so she didn't look up at me. But she seemed okay – 'bout the same as before. Poor girl. I'm sure whatever sweet talking you gave Swank will make sure everything goes off smoothly. Or was it rough talking; you never gave me a straight answer."

She tipped her head slightly to consider her words, "Threatening in a little less than pleasant tone? To put it simply, I told him if he didn't take good care of her, he'd have me to account to."

"Nice." Carson smirked, "See, you fit in here with the big bosses already."

She shrugged, eyes trailing back to doorway. "They took her through here?" She didn't need to gesture to the scene around her.

_The girl couldn't have seen that. Swank's not that stupid._

"No, they swung around the back through that tunnel you came in. You kind of left it wide open, so they just walked right through it. Swank seemed to know right where it was." Carson added, almost implying something.

She nodded absently, looking down to the dark colored coat of Benny's in her hands. Her eyes assessed it once before pulling the sleeve up her arm; mumbling a quick thanks to Carson in the process. She forced herself not to wince at the effort once it settled up over her shoulder, making her back flex.

Her eyes caught the sight of Benny's bloody remains still unmoved from its place against the wooden bar as she pulled the next sleeve up her arm.

_Why would they not take care of him yet?_

"How long are they going to leave him?" She asked, her voice wary as she pulled the coat onto her form.

Carson followed her gaze, and chuckled, "Soon, I'd hope. I'm pretty sure leaving him here would very, very bad for business. Or at least the carpeting. They'll probably take care of Bethany first, then handle the rest. Swank's not the kind to leave something like that untended to. That's more the Omertas' style."

Lone tugged the jacket to settle evenly on her shoulders, "Omertas?" She tried the name precisely on her tongue, committing it to memory. "I'm not familiar with them."

"The Omertas are the family that owns the casino, strip joint, venereal-disease-plague-waiting-to-happen, called Gomorrah. The big one with the fire and the chick on the front, we saw when we came it? They seem to like fire a lot." Carson added, and she noted by his expression he didn't seem very enthused about this dwelling. "They have enough friends in low places to do just about anything they want, with anyone they want, however they want and in whatever position they want."

"Well," She grimaced, "that paints a picture."

"Yeah, just take my word for it. I don't think I could say anything more than that without having to go bathe."

She smiled halfheartedly "I appreciate your restraint."

This coat, she noticed as adjusted it with half interest, was slightly baggier than Carson's, due to Benny being slightly shorter and less lean than him. The scent that met her from the folds of the coat was also different; smelling more of detergent from being freshly washed. Yet stained with an unmistakable hint of cigarettes, which couldn't be washed out.

It felt far stranger than wearing Carson's. She had scavenged from others before - taking what armor and clothes she needed - but somehow this felt like special circumstances. She was wearing the coat of a man she had been hunting for weeks and who laid dead just a few feet away. She didn't like the feel of this coat; it was too much like Benny.

Reaching over and lifting up the same hat Carson had discarded, she placed it over her head in an attempt to hide her face. Or, more than that, conceal the cuts and blood she couldn't wash or tend to.

She looked up to Carson to find him returning her gaze. "Better?"

He raised his eyebrows, considering. "Could use some tailoring, but it's not half bad. The strange part is I didn't see any other flashy outfits around, which means Benny wore that thing of his out of _choice_. I've been to The Tops a couple of times now and I don't think I've seen him in any other suit. I just thought he crashed into the checkers caravan or something."

She breathed a laugh, glancing back to Benny again.

He lied in a bloody pool at the foot of the bar, and she could finally accept it. It was finally over. He just wasn't her problem anymore – none of it was. This whole scene surrounding her wasn't her concern and she didn't need to worry over anything about it. She didn't have to think about things relating to The Tops or Benny or Goodsprings or _any_ of it. She didn't need focus on it.

She looked away from Benny, turning her back to him and not even giving him the honor of her attention any longer. Because it was done.

A sudden feel of resolve settled over her as she looked away. It was over. All this time, all this stress, all this trouble, all these risks and sacrifices and _everything_. And it was done. He was dead. The Man in The Checkered Suit, The Tops Chairman - _Benny_ was dead. She didn't have to hunt, beg, steal, sell, starve, bleed or suffer for his sake.

Done. What was done was done and now she could move on. Now she needed to focus on what was next.

_What is next?_

There were notes in her Pipboy of things people had asked her for or requested she should do. Things she should find, deliver, clear out, shoot, neutralize, negotiate with. There was the impending 'Mr. House' that dwelled outside those doors.

She felt rest, but she didn't feel a peace she thought would flood over her at this point.

Maybe it was lack of sleep.

"You okay?" Carson stretched the word, eyes set closely on her.

Lone looked up at him, realizing more time had passed staring at Benny than she meant. "I'm alright. It's just been a long couple of weeks. And then it's done – simple as that. What has it been, a few hours? Weeks of this and now it's all done in a day."

But what else was new? What did she really expect? Hadn't all her years of this sort of thing taught her enough to expect it to all come down to a few quick decisions – a few split second actions to end it all?

Searching for her father should have taught her that, if nothing else.

But that was a road not to be gone down then. She was getting out of this suite, then out of the hotel, then out of the casino and out of the whole damn situation. It was over, so there was no point lingering. She had taken all she needed and accomplished what she had to. So Lone reached down and hooking her hand on the strap of her bag and heaved the burdensome pack over her shoulder.

Carson reached forward, hand extended as he argued, "Hey, I'm supposed to get that."

She waved off his offer, "Got it. Thanks. I think you've done your part for today." The equipment contained within clattered at the movement; metal shifting inside as she adjusted it to rest properly on her shoulder. The rough material of the strap felt more coarse than normal to her suddenly cleansed hands.

"I wouldn't think of it like that. You… Hey, uh, is that glass in your forehead?"

"Out of everything, that's what you notice?" She answered, humor to her tone when she gave him an odd look. Then her eyes moved away, scanning over the bloodied and disjointed room again. She already checked where something valuable might've been kept, but the process had become a habit for her.

"It just caught my attention at the moment. And you seem pretty okay with having that in your head."

"I wouldn't say _okay_ with it. Just tolerating. I'm not thrilled about having jagged pieces of glass embedded in my skull, if that's what you mean. I can't get ahold of anymore. I just keep pushing it deeper and it hurts too much for me to care."

"Maybe Vault 13 has a medical kit you could use?"

Lone's eyes scanned over the room again, going over places already checked and spots where nothing could be hidden; proving she hadn't missed a thing. She had already gathered all she could and there was nothing left to find. The task was over.

Her eyes fell back on the man before her, suddenly curious. "That'd be nice; but what's this about a _Vault_. Do you ha-"

There was a sharp crash, quick enough to startle her out of her words, and right behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>I think I can drop the disclaimer - does anyone really think I own Fallout at this point? I just own Lone and Carson. <strong>

**A/N: The chapter title is 'Start All Over', by Miley Cyrus. (The song kind of describes Lone's life.)**

**It's sort of slow starting off, but I felt I needed to show Lone's unwinding. She's running on empty now and everything is going by in a haze; so, yeah, she stared at the sink for a while. Next chapter has cool stuff, I promise.**

**You guys cannot believe how motivating your reviews have been. I say as I've not updated since Thanksgiving. BUT THEY REALLY HAVE BEEN! I wouldn't have been able to do this or keep writing without them. :D**

**But okay, yeah, I'm really late and I have an excuse! Shortly after uploading that chapter, myself and my beta were commissioned to write a book for two very esteemed men. So that has taken up every bit of writing energy I possessed. I've had some to still work on my personal novel and a few fics here and there, but it's been quite a bit of a job. **

**But, a few lovely people egging me on with encouragement has really motivated me to update.**

**And also, I actually cut half of this into the next chapter, because it felt too big. So that means the next chapter is all but completely finished and I'll be posting it soon. In a few days, just to have a nice buffer period? And it has more dialogue and interesting stuff. After that, I'll try to work on the others in a more timely fashion. I still have to work on my other writings, but I'll try not to be as long again.**

**Hope you like it! Thanks for reading and putting up with all my irregularity. **


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